I heaved out a breath. “Okay. I’m marginal y better.” He kissed me. “I guess you could say we dated. We were exclusive sexual y and we often ended up going to the same places as a couple. Stil , when she told me she loved me, I was surprised. And flattered. I cared about her. I enjoyed spending time with her.”

“Stil do, apparently,” I muttered.

“Keep listening.” He chastised me with a tap of his finger to the end of my nose. “I thought maybe I might love her, too, in my own way…the only way I knew how.

I didn’t want her to be with anyone else. So I said yes when she proposed.”

I jerked back to look at him. “She proposed?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” he said wryly. “You’re bruising my ego.”

Relief flooded me in a rush that made me dizzy. I threw myself at him, hugging him as tight as I could.

“Hey.” His returning embrace was just as fierce.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m getting there.” I pul ed back and cupped his jaw in my hand. “Keep going.”

“I said yes for al the wrong reasons. After two years of hanging out, we’d never spent a ful night together.

Never talked about any of the things I talk to you about.

She didn’t know me, not real y, and yet I convinced myself that being loved at al was something to hang on to. Who else was going to do it right, if not her?” He moved his attention to my other eye, cleaning away the black streaks. “I think she was hoping that being engaged would take us to a different level.

Maybe I’d open up more. Maybe we’d stay the night at the hotel—which she thought was romantic, by the way

—instead of cal ing it an early night because of classes in the morning. I don’t know.”

I thought it sounded terribly lonely. My poor Gideon.

He’d been alone for so long. Maybe his whole life.

“And maybe when she broke it off after a year,” he went on, “she was hoping that would kick-start things, too. That I’d make a bigger effort to keep her. Instead, I was relieved because I’d started to realize it was going to be impossible to share a home with her. What excuse was I going to come up with to sleep in separate rooms and have my own space?”

“You never considered tel ing her?”

“No.” He shrugged. “Until you, I didn’t consider my past an issue. Yes, it affected certain ways I did things, but everything had its place and I wasn’t unhappy. In fact, I thought I had a comfortable and uncomplicated life.”

“Oh, boy.” My nose wrinkled. “Hel o, Mr.

Comfortable. I’m Miss Complicated.”

His grin flashed. “Never a dul moment.”

Then he grabbed a towel to throw over the puddle he’d left on the floor and toed off his shoes. To my utter delight, he began stripping out of his wet clothes.