Chapter 73 Lawrence's Truth

Chapter 73 Lawrence's Truth
I smile up at him tiredly. "It's okay, Lawrence."
He nods, glancing at the supplies scattered all over. "Now let's figure all this out," he says, sounding very determined. "I have no clue how half of these work, but…"
"You're a genius," I interrupt, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the cramps.
"Yes, but it doesn't always work that way," he mutters, picking up the heating pad with a perplexed frown.

"True," I tease lightly. "Sometimes I forget I'm staring at the same man who couldn't figure out the office coffee machine."
Lawrence lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Okay, you did not have to bring that up."
"Yes, I did," I say softly. "I always have to."
He smiles before switching back to business mode. Lawrence gets up and walks to the kitchen, taking the hot water bottle with him.
A few seconds later, I hear the soft click of the electric kettle's button.

He returns after the water is hot and has been poured into the water bottle.
Quietly, I watch him test the temperature before wrapping it in a soft towel.
"Alright, baby." He whispers, kneeling on the bed beside me. "Here it comes."
He places the bottle on my lower belly and brings my hands to support it.
"Thank you," I say softly.
He nods. "When you're okay with that, we can switch to the heating belt and other stuff."
"Okay." I squeak.
His tenderness is making me emotional.

Lawrence doesn't say anything else, kicking off his shoes again and climbing into bed beside me.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses my hair with affection.
Before I know it, the combination of the heat, the painkillers, and the sound of his heartbeat lulls me into a deep sleep.

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

When I wake again, the room is dim, drenched in soft shades of orange by the setting sun filtering through the curtains.
The cramps have eased enough for me to notice something else.
Warmth.
I blink sleepily to realize Lawrence is still here.
He'd fallen asleep beside me… holding me.
At some point while I slept, he'd replaced the hot-water bottle with the heating pad. One of his hands still rests gently over it, keeping it from shifting.

The sight makes something inside me ache.
He really hasn't left.
Here he is, lying quietly, exhausted from worrying about me, and refusing to leave me to my pain even when I asked for space.
My fingers wander to his forehead, brushing a strand of dark brown hair away from his face.
I love how he always looks less intimidating when he's asleep and more like the man who panics whenever he thinks I'm in danger.

He's the same man who violated my privacy in ways I'm still struggling to comprehend.
The contradiction wars inside me.
I love him.
God...
But is love supposed to overlook warning signs?
Is it supposed to excuse red flags simply because the person waving them would gladly die for you?
Or is real love knowing when to walk away before devotion becomes destruction?

I don't know.
I honestly don't know anymore.
All I know is that loving Lawrence has never been simple.
It never will be.
His eyelashes flutter.
A second later, sleepy green eyes slowly meet mine, and the smallest smile tugs at his lips.
"Hey," he drawls. "You feeling better?"
I nod. "A little."
The relief that washes over his face warms my heart.
He sits up, running a tired hand through his hair.

"So..." he says quietly. "What do you feel like eating? If you don't want any of the food I brought, I'll order something else. Or I'll cook. Whatever you want."
I smile. "I'm not hungry."
"Are you sure?" He narrows his eyes at me.
I shake my head. "My period sometimes comes with mild anorexia."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh."
He pauses. "It's the complete opposite for Laura."

A chuckle leaves my lips.
"When she's on her period, she empties the fridge."
Another chuckle leaves my lips at the thought. "It's different for every woman."
"I see."
We fall silent, staring at each other. And that action, little and unharmful as it may be, starts to stir up feelings again.
Because when I look into those familiar green eyes, I don't just see the man sitting beside me.
I see our time in London.

I see the late-night drives and his ridiculous attempts at making coffee.
I see that time in the Ferris wheel and the terrified way he looked at me.
I see his mother.
The funeral.
I see his tears.
I see everything.
Every fight.
Every kiss.
Every reason I should leave.
Every reason I can't.

It's only been eleven days since we've been apart, and it feels like I spent every one of them missing half of myself.
"Lawr..."
"Scarl..."
We both speak at the same time. Then laugh at the clumsiness.
"You first," I whisper.
His hand reaches out to stroke my hair.
"I…" his eyes dip, and he swallows. "I love you."
My entire body goes still.
Lawrence has never said those words to me before. And I've never asked him to.
I never needed to, because I knew it was there.

In the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention, it was there.
In the ridiculous lengths he'd go to keep me safe, and in every moment where his walls slipped for me to see the lonely man beneath them, it was there.
I always believed one day he'd say it.
I just never imagined that day would be today.
His green eyes stay on mine, honest and so fucking vulnerable.

"I should've told you a long time ago," he says quietly. Then swallows again.
"And before you think this is some desperate attempt to get you back..." A faint smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that."
His gaze drops for a brief second before finding mine again.
"I do."
His voice is rough now.
"I want you to come back to me more than I've ever wanted anything."

He lets out a slow breath. "But that's not why I'm saying it."
Another brief pause ensues.
"So listen to me."
His fingers brush my cheek. "I love you, Scarlett."
My eyes start to well up with tears.
"I love your laugh, and I love that you argue with me even when every sensible person in the room would surrender."
A soft chuckle escapes him.

"I love that you made me realize life isn't supposed to be lived entirely behind a laptop screen."
His thumb wipes a tear beneath my eye.
"And I don't want another day to pass where there's even the slightest chance you don't know that."
His jaw tightens. "If you decide we're over..."
The words visibly hurt him to say.
"...then I'll survive it."
A lie.
We both know it's a lie.
Lawrence will burn down the whole of New York if that happens.

"But I couldn't live with myself if the last thing I ever left you wondering was whether I loved you." He shakes his head. "So now you know."
Lawrence smiles. "I love you, Scar. I've loved you for longer than I had the courage to admit."
Before I can reply, he continues. "And I'll probably spend the rest of my life loving you."