Emma felt as like she was at last beginning to find calm, even if the following few weeks were a swirl of emotions unlike anything else in a long time. Spending more time together, her bond with Lucas was becoming stronger every day.
Emma questioned herself, wondering if she could really let herself be vulnerable once again, and it wasn't always simple—there were still times when the anxiety returned. Lucas, on the other hand, was kind, patient, and every time she tried to withdraw he was there to tell her that she didn't have to do this by herself.
Their days were full of laughter, stolen looks, and quiet times that made Emma feel as if she had at last discovered something worth clinging to. They moved in easy time.
Emma still harbored a portion, however, that yearned for the other shoe to fall. Her relationship was blossoming. She had suffered before, and the wounds of her past lingered in the background just waiting to flare up.
She hoped to think that this—what they had—was unique and trusted Lucas. She couldn't get rid of the anxiety however, that it would all fall apart.
She also doubted if she would be strong enough to withstand it if it occurred.
Emma and Lucas sank into a routine that seemed both natural and horrible, and the following two weeks passed in a fog of emotions. Every day drew them closer, their love strengthening in ways Emma had never considered possible. Sharing bits of herself she had kept secret for so long, she was opening to Lucas more than she had ever done to anybody.
Emma, however, couldn't get rid of the anxiety that persisted in the back of her mind even as their bond grew closer. Every time she let herself feel joyful, every time she thought this might be genuine, the shadows of her past creeped in and reminded her of the suffering she had gone through before. Though a part of her was still waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her, she wanted to trust Lucas and allow herself totally accept the bond that was developing between them.
Emma found herself caught in contemplation one evening as they sat together on the sofa in Lucas's penthouse and watched the city lights flutter through the floor to-celly windows. Lucas stood next to her, his arm slung sloppily across her shoulders, but she could feel her worries dragging her away from the quiet moment.
"Penny for your ideas?," Soft in voice, Lucas broke through the stillness.
Emma blinked, aware she had been looking at the skyline for far too long. Her heart missing a beat at the warmth in his gaze, she looked up at him. Her heart hurt in ways she couldn't articulate when he gazed at her as if she were the only thing that mattered.
"I was just... thinking," she murmured softly, her voice just above a whisper.
Lucas turned to face her more completely and slightly wrinkled his brow. " About what?"
Emma paused; the words seized her throat. She wasn't sure whether she was ready to express the ideas that had been whirling in her head, or if she could articulate the anxiety that had been chewing at her ever since they had begun to approach.
But Lucas had treated her only with patience. He had never pressed for more than she was ready to provide. Emma felt a wave of thanks for him now, as he gazed at her with such compassion; he had always allowed her room to negotiate her emotions.
She said, "I'm scared," her voice shaking just a little.
Lucas's fingers became firm around hers, his face softening. Fear of what?
Emma pointed between them and said, "Of this." Among us. Of which are approaching too closely. Every time I let myself imagine something may work, I consider what happens should it prove otherwise. What happens if you—" Stopped, the words caught in her throat once again.
Lucas's gaze softened as he reached out, softly cradling her face in his palms. Emma, I am nowhere right now. As many times as you need to hear it, I will keep reminding you that I told you earlier as well.
Her was warmed by his words, yet the dread persisted. She had heard promises like that before; they had always resulted in heartache. Though the wounds ran deep, she did not want to question Lucas or allow her history to define what they were creating.
She said, her voice almost audible, "I just don't want to get hurt again."
Lucas's fingers lightly swept over her face, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "I know,," he responded gently. And I cannot guarantee that things will always go well. I will swear, however, that I won't harm you. Emma, you are important to me. More than I have ever cared for someone in a lifetime.
Emma felt her heart constrict in her chest as his words lingered between them, loaded with feeling. She wanted to believe him—wanted to accept that this might be unique, that Lucas was unique.
But she no longer found trust to be something natural.
Her voice almost above a whisper, she said, "I care about you too." That's why this worries me so much.
Lucas's fingers moved to rest on her neck, his eyes fixed and unrelenting. "We'll work through this together." You are not working by yourself here.
Emma's heart grew at his words, and for a minute the anxiety that had been chewing at her seemed to slink away. Lucas did not fit the others. He was not attempting to control her, nor pushing her away. Emma thought maybe—just maybe—that she did not have to be so terrified; he was patient, sympathetic, and for the first time in a long time.
Her head rested on his chest as she leaned into him and his arms around her, crisscrossing her. Emma felt protected for the first time in a long time as her ears echoed his consistent pulse. She had no idea what the future contained or if she would ever be free from the anxiety that had been stifling her. For now, however, at this instant she allowed herself hope that maybe things would change.
Perhaps she could have this—had him—without sacrificing her self in the process.
Emma discovered, however, that the anxiety never completely disappeared over the next days. It stayed in the background, a subdued murmur that became louder as she moved toward Lucas. She couldn't dispute their relationship or the way he made her feel. Still, the marks of her past tormented her and served as a reminder of the suffering she had endured before.
One day, the weight of those worries descended on her as she sat in her studio working on a fresh piece. Their hectic schedules kept them apart, so she hadn't seen Lucas in a few days; yet, the distance seemed to accentuate the uncertainties that had been whirling in her head.
Suppose she made a mistake? Imagine if she let herself fall in love with him and then watched as everything she had collapsed once again. She wasn't sure whether she could bear twice that degree of grief.
Emma looked at the screen of her phone, which buzzed on the table next to her, her heart skipping a beat as she read Lucas' name.
Lucas: I miss you. Dinner tonight.
She wanted to be with him, feel the solace of his presence, and wanted to say yes right then. Still, another side of her hesitated—that which had been burnt before. Was her pace too quick? Was she allowing herself to get too near too soon?
Her fingertips floated across the screen, doubt chewing at her. She wanted not to let her worry destroy what they were creating, not to drive Lucas away. She yet also wanted not to lose herself once again.
She wrote an answer after a protracted silence.
Emma: I really miss you as well. I need some time, however, to consider.
She pushed send before she could start to doubt herself, and she felt panic flood over her right away. She wanted Lucas not to feel as like she was withdrawing and did not want to upset him. She had to learn how to negotiate this, however, how to let herself feel without allowing it to rule her.
A few minutes later her phone buzzed once again with Lucas's reply.
Lucas: Take as needed all the time. I'm right here.
Emma's heart hurt with thanks from the modest message. Lucas exercised more patience than she had anticipated. He was not asking more than she could offer or pushing her. She was appreciative of the space he was allowing her.
Still, the uncertainty persisted even as she felt relief.
Emma sat before her canvas that evening, the charcoal pencil in hand, staring at the blank area before her. Her mind too caught on ideas of Lucas and the swirl of feelings she had been experiencing, she had not been able to concentrate on her job all day.
Her haven, her means of understanding the environment she lived in, art had always been there, but suddenly it seemed far away. All she could think of each time she grabbed a pencil or brush was him.
She sighed frustratedly, placed the pencil down, sat back in her chair, and fixed her eyes on the incomplete picture on her easel. It was meant to be a mirror of the storm before the peace, a picture of the anarchy and upheaval she had been experiencing. Now, however, all she saw as she stared at it was her anxiety.
The anxiety of allowing herself to get too close. The anxiety of once again losing myself. TH
Her fingers shook as she responded on a typewriter.
Emma: I'm doing well. Simply trying to sort things out.
Her heart weighed heavily with her uncertainty as she pushed submit. She had no idea how to negotiate the emotions that had been developing between them or advance. She realized, however, she couldn't continue to live in terror.
Though she longed to let herself fall, the whispers of uncertainty still followed her, reminding her of the hazards, of the suffering she had gone through previously.
I worry about meeting someone who may hurt her heart.
Emma looked at the screen as her phone buzzed once again, her heart sinking at another message from Lucas.
Lucas : Just making a friendly check in. You're fine.
She also didn't know whether she could be strong enough to once again take that chance.