My grip tightened on the spatula in frustration, and I paused mixing. "Or maybe," I said, and I resumed my motions forcefully. "I'm just in pain."
My throat tightened suddenly as I spoke so that the last word came out sounding small and unsupported. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away hastily, unwilling to put him into a position of having to comfort me.
I could sense him looking at me, but I could not return his gaze. If I saw the compassion that was sure to be written on his face, I knew I would not be able to stop my tears. So, I kept mixing. He was clearly waiting for me to look up at him. When I did not, silence stretched on.
The thought of him waiting, patiently, for me, brought another stinging to my eyes. Damn, my emotions were on a hair trigger right now. That thought frustrated me, which only brought more tears. These were enough that they didn't dissipate when I blinked, and the bowl of batter in front of me began to blur. I squeezed my eyes shut in another attempt to stop crying, so the sudden physical contact startled me.
He had gently but firmly stilled my hands with his own, and did not let go. This time, I did look at him. And when I did, I saw that he understood exactly how I felt, and that he disapproved of my attempts at concealing my emotions for his sake.
He stared past my eyes and directly at me. He spoke. "Elizabeth."
I involuntarily let out a little gasp at the emotion that pulsed through me, like being pushed underwater by a wave. Never had my name been so... personal before.
"Elizabeth," He repeated in a quieter, infinitely gentle tone. He did not look away, even once. He squeezed my hands as he went on, saying each word firmly and deliberately. "Let yourself cry."
Well, that did it.
