Ouch. Double hurt.
Sydney walks over to Bridgette's bedroom door and knocks. After a few seconds, she cautiously slips inside and closes the door behind her.
If she somehow fixes this, I'll be indebted to her forever.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair, knowing this is my fault. I glance over at Ridge and he's staring at me. "What'd I miss?" he signs.
I slowly shake my head in shame. "Bridgette found out Sydney's not deaf and now Bridgette hates me. Sydney went to Bridgette's room to try and fix things because she feels guilty."
Confusion clouds Ridge's face. "Sydney?" he signs. "What does she have to feel guilty for?"
I shrug. "Going along with the prank, I guess. She feels bad that it embarrassed Bridgette."
Ridge shakes his head. "Bridgette deserved it. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be her. Not Sydney."
Why is he defending Sydney like he's her overprotective boyfriend? I glance at Bridgette's bedroom door, shocked that I actually hear a conversation going on in her room, rather than a catfight. Ridge waves his hand in the air to get my attention again.
"Bridgette isn't yelling at her, is she?" he signs. He looks worried, and frankly, that concerns me.
"You sure do seem to care a lot about Sydney's well-being," I sign.
His jaw tightens, and I know I probably shouldn't have said anything. I can't help it, though. I've been through a lot with Ridge and Maggie, and I don't want him screwing things up just because he might find another girl attractive.
I can tell he doesn't want to take the conversation in that direction, so I redirect it back to me.
"No, neither of them are yelling," I sign. "But Bridgette will be as soon as she walks back out of her bedroom. She'll more than likely move out now, and I'll never be able to crawl out of bed again because . . ." I clasp my hand to my chest, "She's gonna take my heart with her."
He knows I'm being dramatic, so he rolls his eyes and laughs, turning to face his laptop again. The door to Bridgette's bedroom swings open, and she marches out.
I didn't prepare for this. I knew she'd be mad, but I'm not sure I can defend myself against her physically if we were in a real fight.
I sit up straight and watch in fear as she walks swiftly toward me. She kneels down onto the couch and slides her leg across my lap, straddling me.
I'm so confused.
Her hands meet my cheeks and she sighs. "I can't believe I'm falling in love with such a stupid, stupid asshole."
My heart wants to rejoice, but my mind is pulling on the reins.
Falling in love.
With an asshole.
A stupid, stupid asshole.
Holy shit! That's me!
I wrap my hands around her head and pull her mouth to mine at the same time that I stand up and begin making my way into my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and walk over to the bed and drop her on it. I take off my shirt and throw it on the floor.
"Say it again." I slide on top of her and she smiles, touching my face with the palms of her hands.
"I said I'm falling in love with you, Warren. I think. I'm pretty sure that's what this is."
I kiss her again, frantically. Those are the most beautiful words I've ever heard come out of another human. I pull back and look at her again. "But you wanted to kill me five minutes ago. What changed?" I lift up onto my hands. "Did Sydney pay you to say that? Is this a prank?" My heart stops. Bridgette shakes her head.
I would die. I would literally die if she took them back. I would die so much better than Brody dies, because my death would be actual death.
"I just . . ." Bridgette pauses, searching for the right words. "I've been thinking this whole time that maybe you were messing around with Sydney. But after talking to her, I know that's not true. And she also mentioned that one night when you were drunk, you said you might love me. And that just . . . I don't know, Warren."
God, I love this. I love her nervousness. I love her hesitation. I love that she's talking to me so openly. "Tell me, Bridgette," I say quietly, urging her to finish what she was saying. I roll onto my side and lift up onto my elbow. I brush the hair away from her forehead and lean forward to kiss it.
"When she said that, it made me feel . . . happy. And I realized that I'm never happy. I was an unhappy child and I'm an unhappy adult and nothing in my life makes me feel the way you do. So I just . . . I think that's what this feeling is. I think I'm falling in love with you."
A small droplet of a tear escapes from the corner of her eye and as much as I want to bottle it up and save it for all of eternity, I pretend not to notice it, because I know that's what she would prefer. I kiss her lips again before pulling back and looking her directly in the eyes. "I'm falling in love with you, too."
She smiles and reaches her hand up to the back of my head, slowly pulling my mouth to hers. She kisses me softly and then gently pushes me onto my back. She eases herself on top of me and presses her hands against my chest.
"I think I should clarify that I never said I was in love with you. I just said I was falling in love with you. There's a difference."
I grab her by the hips and pull her closer. "The only difference between falling in love and being in love is that your heart already knows how you feel, but your mind is too stubborn to admit it." Then I whisper in her ear. "But take all the time you need. I have nothing but patience for you."
"Good, because I'm not telling you I love you yet. Because I don't. I might be on my way to that point, but anything could derail that."
I can't help but smile and kiss her after that little disclaimer.
After a few more minutes of kissing, she turns her head to the side and holds up a finger, silently asking me to stop. She pulls away and sits up on the bed, hugging her knees. She lays her head on her arms and squeezes her eyes shut. She's quiet for several moments, and her reaction is unusual for her. She looks guilty. She doesn't ever look guilty because she's always too angry to feel any sense of guilt.
"What's the matter?" I ask her.
She quickly shakes her head. "I'm the worst person in the world," she whispers. She turns her head toward mine, slowly. I don't like the look on her face.
She begins to scoot off the bed and I feel my heart dragging behind her. "It was a prank, Warren," she says softly as she stands.
I rise up onto my elbows. "What do you mean?"
She turns to face me and her eyes are so full of shame, she can't even look at me without wincing. "I was trying to get back at you for letting me think Sydney was deaf." She opens the bathroom door and looks down at her feet. "I said all that because I was mad at you, not because it's really how I feel. I'm not falling in love with you, Warren."
I think you're standing on my heart, Bridgette.
She glances over her shoulder into the bathroom, and then back at me. "I didn't mean to take it that far. This is really awkward. I'm gonna go back to my room now." She closes the door behind her.
I'm too numb to feel. Too numb to move. Too numb to process the words that just came out of her mouth. My throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my chest hurts, even my fucking lungs hurt and oh, my God, it hurts so much.
I fall back to the bed and bring two fists to my forehead.
"Hey, Warren," she says from the doorway.
I look up at her and she still looks just as guilty. She waves her hand back and forth between us. "That whole thing that just happened? That was . . ." Her frown transforms into a shit-eating grin. "That was actually the prank!"
She runs and jumps on the bed, and begins dancing around me. "You should have seen your face!" She's laughing and jumping, bouncing every aching part of me up and down on the bed.
I want to kill her.
She falls to her knees and leans over me, pressing her lips to mine. When she pulls back, I don't want to kill her anymore. My whole body is miraculously healed by her smile. I feel better than I've ever felt. I feel stronger, more alive, happier, and somehow more in love with her
than I was five minutes ago. I pull her against me. "That was a really good prank, Bridgette."
She laughs. "I know. It was the best."
I nod. "It really was."
I hold her for several quiet minutes, replaying the entire scene in my head. "God, you're such a bitch."
She laughs again. "I know. A bitch who finally met the right asshole."
Chapter Eleven
Guess who woke up in Bridgette's bed again this morning?
Me.
And guess who'll be falling asleep in Bridgette's bed tonight?
That's right. Me.
Both of those things are great, but not as great as this moment. Right now.
We're both seated on the couch, and she's lying between my legs with her head on my chest. We're watching a movie where the actors actually stay dressed for the entire film. But it's not really important what film it is, because Bridgette's cuddling with me.
This is a first, and it's incredible, and I love how she makes me appreciate such simple, mundane things.
Both of us glance at the door when we hear a key being inserted into the lock. The door opens and Brennan walks in. I immediately sit up on the couch, because he's supposed to be in Dallas tonight. He has a show tomorrow, and I'm positive I booked him a hotel for the right night.
Bridgette sits up on the couch and looks at him. He smiles at her, but it's a forced smile. He reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. He holds it up. "This came today," he says.
Bridgette squeezes my hand and that's when I realize he's holding the test results. I've known Brennan long enough to know by his reaction that he's not happy about the results. I just don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing for Bridgette.
"Just tell me," she whispers.
Brennan looks down at his feet and then up to me. The look in his eyes is enough for Bridgette to know that she's not any closer to figuring out who her real father is than she was a few months ago.
She inhales a deep breath, and then stands up. She mutters a "thank you" to Brennan and begins heading toward her bedroom, but he grabs her by the arm and pulls her to him. He wraps his arms around her and gives her a hug, but in true Bridgette fashion, she doesn't allow it to last more than two seconds. She begins to cry, and I know that Bridgette doesn't want anyone to see her cry. She ducks her head and rushes to her room.
Brennan tosses the paper on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. "This sucks, man," he says. "I felt like she really needed it to be true, and instead, it just adds to all the shit she's had to deal with her whole life."
I sigh and drop my head against the couch. "You sure about the results? There's no way they could have messed up?"
Brennan shakes his head. "She's not his daughter. And in a way, I'm happy for her because who would want him for a dad? But I know she liked the idea of finally having a little bit of closure."
I stand up and squeeze the back of my neck. "I don't think closure is the only thing she was hoping for." I point to her bedroom. "I'm gonna go check on her," I tell him. "Thanks for coming all this way to tell her."
Brennan nods, and I make my way into her bedroom. She's curled up on the far side of her bed, facing opposite from the door.
I'm not good at consoling, so I'm not sure what I can say to make her feel any better. Instead, I just climb onto the bed and scoot in behind her. I wrap my arm over her and grab her hand.
We lie like this for several minutes, and I let her get all her tears out. When it doesn't sound like she's crying anymore, I press a kiss into her hair.
"He would have been a horrible father, Bridgette."
She nods. "I know. I just . . ." She sucks in a rush of air. "I like it here. I feel like all of you accept me for who I am, and that's never happened before. And now that Brennan knows I'm not his sister, what happens now? Do I just leave?"
I squeeze her tighter, hating that she even thinks that's an option. "Over my and Brody's dead bodies. No way am I letting you go anywhere."
She laughs and wipes at her eyes. "You guys don't have to be nice to me out of pity."
I roll her onto her back and shake my head in confusion. "Pity? This isn't pity, Bridgette. I mean, yeah, I feel bad for you. Yeah, it might have been cool if you were their sister. But it doesn't change anything. The only thing those test results would have changed is that you'd go from not knowing who your real father is to having one of the worst fathers in the world." I kiss her on the forehead. "I don't care whose sister you are, I love you the same."
Her eyes widen, and I can feel her body stiffen in my arms. I didn't say I was falling in love this time.
I just told her I loved her. Like, actively. And yes, those three words could probably make her flip out more than any other three words in the English language, but I can't take it back. I won't take it back. I love her, and I've loved her for months now and I'm tired of being too scared of her reaction to say it.
She begins to shake her head. "Warren . . ."
"I know," I interject. "I said it. Get over it. I love you, Bridgette."
Her expression is void of any emotion right now. She's absorbing it. She's waiting to see how those words make her feel, because I'm not sure if she's ever heard them before.
Her jaw grows tense, and she places her hands against my chest. "You're a liar," she snaps, attempting to roll out from under me.
Here we go again.
I pull her back to the mattress while she attempts to squirm away. "You're exhausting, you know that?" I roll her onto her back and she begins to nod, frantically.
"That's right, Warren. I'm exhausting. I'm mean. I always see the glass half empty, and if you think telling me you love me will make me nicer and less exhausting, you're wrong. You can't change me. Everyone wants to change me, but I am who I am, and if you think me telling you that I love you, too, will make me shit out unicorns and rainbows, you're wrong. I hate unicorns and rainbows."
I drop my face to her neck and I start to laugh. "Oh, my God, I can't believe you're mine." I kiss her on the cheek, and then I kiss her on the forehead, and then her nose and her chin and her other cheek. I look back at her eyes full of confusion.
"I don't want you to change, Bridgette. I'm not in love with who you could be, or who you used to be, or who the world says you should be. I'm in love with you. Right now. Just like this."
She's still guarded and defensive, so I pull her closer to me and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Stop," I whisper in her ear. "Stop telling yourself that you aren't lovable, because it's pissing me off. I don't care if you aren't ready to admit how you really feel about me yet, but don't you dare dismiss how I feel about you. Because I love you." I kiss her on the side of the head, and I say it again. It feels so good to finally say it. "I love you, Bridgette."
She pulls away just enough for me to see her face. Her eyes are rimmed with tears.
"Bridgette, I love you," I say again, this time looking her straight in the eyes. I can feel her struggling internally. Part of her wants to enjoy this moment, and part of her is trying to hold up that last wall that still stands between us.
"I love you," I whisper again.
One of the tears escapes from her eyes, and I'm afraid she's about to break and push me away like she always does. I press my lips against hers, and I inhale deeply. I touch her cheek and wipe away her tear with my thumb.
"You're the most genuine person I know, Bridgette. So whether you think you deserve love or not, it doesn't matter, because I can't help it. I fell in love with you, and I'm not sorry for it."
Another tear falls from her eyes.
A smile forms on her lips.
A laugh escapes her mouth, and her chest begins to shake because she's laughing and crying and kissing me. And I kiss her right back, crashing right through the last wall that stood between us.
She wraps her hands in my hair and rolls me onto my back, still with her lips pressed to mine. I open my eyes and she backs away from my mo
uth, still smiling. She begins to shake her head in slow disbelief. "I can't believe I'm in love with such a stupid, stupid asshole."
I'm not sure this sentence could mean more to any other man in the world.
"I love you, Warren."
I can't even tell her I love her back, because hearing those words come out of her mouth has left me completely speechless. But I don't think she cares, because her lips are on mine so hard and fast, I wouldn't be able to speak anyway.
I'm in love with Bridgette.
Bridgette is in love with me.
All is finally right in the world.
We continue to kiss while we remove each other's clothes. Neither one of us is in control this time. She makes love to me at the same time I make love to her, and no one is in charge. No one is calling the shots. It's completely equal now. She feels about me how I feel about her and when we're finished, she whispers, "I love you, Warren."
And I say, "I love you, Bridgette."
And no one argues.
She lies peacefully in my arms and doesn't try to kick me out of her bed. Just the thought of having to go back to my room and sleep alone seems ridiculous and I'm not sure I ever want to sleep alone again.
I stroke her arm with my fingers. "I have an idea," I whisper against her hair.
She shakes her head. "I'm not doing anal."
I laugh and pull back. "What? No. Not that. Not yet, anyway." I push her off of me and sit up, pulling her to a seated position. I take both of her hands in mine, and I look her very seriously in the eyes. "I think we should move in together."
Her eyes widen in shock and she's looking at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. "We already live together, dumbass. And we hardly have to pay rent. We'd be broke if we got our own place."
I dismiss her concerns with a shake of my head. "I don't mean into a new apartment. Move into my bedroom with me. We're together every night anyway."
She's still shaking her head. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because," I say to her, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's romantic."
"No, Warren, it's dumb."
I fall back onto the bed, frustrated. She drops to my side and glares down at me. "Why would I want to move all my clothes into your tiny closet? That's so stupid. I have way too much closet stuff."
"Fine," I tell her. "You can keep all your clothes in your own closet, but move everything else into my room."