Why I Love Him

Chapter Thirteen

"Don't slice your finger off." I blinked at the sound of Wayne's warning before looking down at the chopping board and the knife I had a little too close to my fingers that were holding down the greens. I dropped the knife, stepping away as I heard Wayne's footsteps as he came up behind me.

"I'll cut the vegetables, you can sort out the chicken stock," he said as he placed his hands on my shoulders and gave them a small squeeze. I turned my head to look at him before looking away. I swallowed the spit in my mouth, nodding at his instruction.

After a while, I slipped from his grip and moved to the pack of chicken we had bought that was laying on the kitchen marble counter. We were at Wayne's place, and it was about eight P.M. at night. He had picked me up from work and then drove us to a local grocery store to get some things before we headed for his place. We were currently trying to make stew. Though we talked from time to time — asking and answering each other's questions — there was a certain heaviness in the air that I was sure he could feel too. It was mostly because of me. The paranoia that was built up in me was just radiating from my pores. I needed to keep the promise I made to myself. I needed to ask him about the girl he had called his daughter sooner or later. But how do I bring it up? How could I talk about it without everything crashing in on me?

"Is something wrong?" Wayne asked, making me blink. My eyes went wide when I noticed my hands were just soaked in the sink with the ice-cold chicken. I had spaced out again, and I was getting a little frustrated with myself. A sigh left my lips, and I shook my head, trying to get back to work again as I avoided Wayne's concerned gaze.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that, don't you?" he said after a while, making me stop what I was doing before looking over at him.

A deep sigh left my lips as I closed my eyes for a bit, opening them again before shrugging. "Can I really?" I asked, watching as Wayne's concerned look turned into one of curiosity.

"If I ask you a direct question, will you answer it?" I asked, watching as Wayne seemed to shrink into himself. The way he fidgeted and avoided my gaze told me all I needed to know. My mouth went dry, and there was a growing urge in my throat to throw up. "Huh, I thought I could talk to you about anything," I said, sarcasm staining my tone.

"Who's that girl you called your daughter?" I asked after a while of Wayne staying silent. I watched as the color drained from his face, and as he held his hand shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

He took in deep breaths as his eyes moved to the tiled floor. "My niece—"

"I never knew you had a niece until you said so. Who is she really, Wayne?" My voice was getting higher and was starting to border on yelling. I had to be firm and come off strong. I had already concluded he was lying, I just needed him to tell me the truth. Wayne seemed flustered. He rubbed his palms on the sweatpants he was in before tucking his hands into his pocket. His lips parted from time to time, but they sealed shut just as quickly. He was trying to sort out his words, and his hesitance was only making me more agitated.

"Who is she, Wayne?" My voice was shaking now, and you could hear the pain and worry in my tone. I blinked, feeling tears sting my eyes. I felt dizzy. I had to sit down somewhere. I couldn't deal with this confrontation. I—

"John!" Wayne gasped, rushing to me when I crouched down on the floor, violently sobbing. I tried to scoot away when he moved to hold me, but I was too exhausted to move, and maybe I was at conflict with myself because I liked the way Wayne was holding on to me with all his might. He rocked me in his arms, apologizing for being a shitty person as he kept kissing my forehead. I stopped crying, but I became a shell of myself, staying still and quiet. My throat felt dry, and I didn't feel like talking.

The only sound that stained the silence in the kitchen belonged to the ticking clock in the distance, and the deep breaths coming from Wayne and me. I shut my eyes since my eyelids felt heavy, and Wayne kept on kissing my forehead as he rubbed small circles on my back.

"John," he called, making me open my eyes before focusing my gaze on him. His green eyes were fear-filled. I wondered what he was afraid of.

"John, please talk to me," he begged, his voice shaky. I hummed a bit, watching as all the color that had drained from his face returned in the form of a light pink blush on his cheeks and nose. He let me go and I scooted a bit until it was just my hand he was holding on to.

"I'll be honest with you. I can't tell you everything—" he paused, tightening he hold on to the hand I wanted to rip from him at hearing his words.

He can't tell me everything. I repeated in my head, as my lips came together in a thin line. So, he really was hiding something from me after all. I knew it, but something in me still wanted it not to be true.

"I'll tell you everything with time, but I'm not sure you're in the best condition to hear it now," his voice was hoarse, and he was blinking his eyes ever so often, trying not to let his tears fall. "I just need time. It's hard to say—" he looked away from me when it got too much for him. I watched him rub the side of his eyes with the base of his palm as he took deep breaths. It was then I noticed this situation wasn't only hard on me. It was hard on him too. Whatever he had been hiding was serious.

I just stared at him, not knowing what to do. My head was filled with thousands of voices saying the same thing repeatedly as if they were a record stuck on rewind.

He'll hurt you.

I nibbled on my bottom lip, bringing my hands up to cover my face. I felt like running away from this. I could see Wayne hurting too. That it wasn't just me, but I couldn't help but be selfish. What about me? I couldn't go down the same part as we did in university. It would kill me. I rose my knees up, pulling them to myself.

I didn't want to think about all this. I didn't want to make any decisions. I was afraid — too scared to take a chance on anything that might hurt me in the long run.

"Johnathan—"

"Wayne, just don't," I croaked, my throat feeling clogged and dry. I felt like throwing up. I didn't want to deal with this. I didn't ask for any of this, so why? "Please, just don't," I found myself saying as I looked over and held a gaze with Wayne's green eyes. There was sadness, and conflict in them. It looked like he didn't know what to do. I rested my head on his chest, closing my eyes as I tried to calm down.

Wayne had a secret, but he promised he would share it with me in time. Although I was trying to make sense of it all and look at the bright side, it still left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I wasn't sure how to handle that.

I farrowed my brows as a sigh left my lips at the feeling of Wayne wrapping his hands around my waist. He moved to kiss my neck, my forehead, my jaw, and my cheeks. As much as I would hate to admit it, I did find the action soothing. The feeling of pleasure coursing through me was much greater than the confusion and dejection I was struggling now. I leaned into his hold, turning my body in a way that made it easier for me to reach up and meet his lips. Wayne let out a surprised gasp, but he welcomed the kiss, letting himself run his hand through y hair as our tongues met and lips slid against each other's mouths.

"John..." Wayne muttered when I slipped a hand under his shirt to feel his skin. I looked at him with a blank gaze, letting the thumb run small circles on his chest.

"You're not thinking straight, stop it," he mumbled, pulling my hand away from him before scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. Why is this harder than it should be?" he said more to himself than me. He groaned, staring down at me before he turned his gaze to the door that led to the living room.

"I'll carry you," he said, squatting down before gathering me in his hands. There was no way he didn't think I was heavy. He kept adjusting his grip, but he managed to carry me out of the kitchen and into the living room. He stared at the sofa for a bit, but he shook his head after a while before moving in direction of the hallway that led to the bedrooms and study. I let out a small groan when I was put on the large bed. The mattress was soft, and I wasn't sure if I felt sleepy because of that, or because my mind was overworking and making me exhausted.

"You're not feeling alright. I'll get you something to eat," I heard Wayne say in the background as I fought to keep my eyelids open. Later, I heard the door being shut.

Hat night I slept beside Wayne, but he made sure not to stay too close to give me space. I was still awake when he was fast asleep, and I stared into the darkness and wondered if everything was going to be alright.

I wanted things to work out for us. I really did. I hoped that what Wayne would tell me later in the future wouldn't be a deal-breaker.