The Matchmakers

TWENTY

IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF the night when Sophie's door crashed open.

She bolted upright, rubbing the sleep from her eyes even as she reached for the knot of emotions in her core.

But the voice that spoke wasn't the stuff of her nightmares. In fact, it sounded a lot like her boyfriend saying, "I'm sorry I'm such an idiot!"

Well... that certainly wasn't what she'd expected...

"Fitz?" she asked, rubbing her eyes again to make sure she wasn't hallucinating her boyfriend. "What are you doing here?"

He paced up and down next to her bed. "I just...I saw all the people and I got mad and I didn't want you to have to deal with me in a mood like that and I'm sorry and I promise it'll never happen again--"

"Fitz, slow down," Sophie interrupted, shaking her head to try to clear the cloudiness of sleep away. "What are you talking about?"

Fitz sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand. "I'm sorry about what happened tonight. You planned a really thoughtful date, and I ruined it."

"You didn't ruin it," Sophie told him with a wide yawn and a patronizing pat on the arm.

Fitz looked forlorn as he stared at the place her hand had been. "Yes, I did. And I'm sorry."

"Did you ask those people to stalk us to Moonglade?" Sophie asked him, raising an eyebrow as she tilted his chin and moved his gaze to hers. "No, you didn't. You didn't even know where we were going."

Fitz raked his hands through his hair. "That's not why I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Sophie yawned again. "Fitz, I'm really tired. Can we do this in the morning?"

"No. I'm sorry for waking you up, but I need to get this off my chest. Sophie..." Fitz trailed off, then started again. "Sophie," he said, taking her other hand in his and looking her directly in the eye, "I love you."

Her heart fluttered. Who would have guessed that three words, eight letters, would cause the butterflies in Sophie's stomach to go absolutely ballistic? But she clamped down on the feelings just as quickly as they started. They'd already been over this, at the disaster of a date. "I know," she said, thankful that her words were steady, if a little breathy, because she felt anything but. He loved her as a friend, and nothing more. And she'd accepted that.

"No," Fitz asserted, squeezing her hands in his. "I mean I'm in love with you. Like 'I can't stop thinking about you' in love with you. Like everything that happens in my day I'm constantly thinking, 'I should tell Sophie about that' or 'Sophie would think that was funny.' And I was so scared to say it earlier, because I was afraid I'd scare you away, that I just panicked and froze and ended up blurting out the first thing that came to mind. But now... Sophie, I want you--I need you--to know how I feel, even if you don't feel the same way."

Sophie was stunned, and her cheeks heated. She didn't know what to say. She'd just come to terms with the realization Fitz only loved her as a friend before falling asleep. To think he felt that strongly for her...it was a little surprising. A little humbling.

And quite flattering.

Fitz misinterpreted her shocked silence. "And it's okay if you don't," he quickly covered. "Feel the same way, that is. I don't want to pressure you in any way to respond. In fact, I don't expect you to. I just wanted to be honest with you. Clear the air."

"Fitz?" Sophie interrupted before he could continue rambling.

"Yes?" he asked, his gorgeous eyes wide and vulnerable. He'd never looked as innocent as he did in that moment, his heart on his sleeve, just waiting for her to pick it up. He was all in.