For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, “Caleb.”
He looked toward her.
“Yes?”
“Do you think I'm beautiful?”
The question seemed to frighten her more than anything she'd asked since the wedding.
Caleb stared.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Eleanor felt her heart sink.
She began lowering her gaze.
Then he spoke.
“Yes.”
She looked up.
His face had gone red.
He swallowed.
“Very.”
Eleanor stared.
Caleb continued awkwardly.
“I've wanted to tell you since the day we met, but I wasn't sure whether you'd believe me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
He looked alarmed.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then—”
She laughed through tears.
“I'm trying to remember the last time a man said something kind about the way I look.”
Caleb's expression changed.
For several seconds, he looked as though he might cry too.
Then he asked quietly, “May I sit closer?”
Eleanor nodded.
He moved nearer, careful not to crowd her.
She reached for his hand.
His fingers closed gently around hers.
For a moment, they simply sat together.
Then Eleanor looked toward the old scar visible beneath his open collar.
“Do you think you're beautiful?”
Caleb laughed nervously.
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?”
He looked down.
“I'm enormous. Scarred. Awkward.”
Eleanor smiled.
“I'm enormous too.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“And I think you're the most handsome man I've ever seen.”
Caleb froze.
For a moment, he appeared incapable of speech.
Then he shook his head.
“You don't have to say that.”
Eleanor tightened her grip on his hand.
“I know.”
He stared.
She continued.
“That's why I wanted to.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Caleb lowered his head.
His shoulders trembled.
Eleanor realized he was crying.
She reached toward his face.
“Caleb?”
He looked up.
His eyes were wet.
“I spent so many years believing nobody would ever want to look at me without being frightened.”
Eleanor's heart broke.
She cupped his cheek.
He closed his eyes.
Then whispered, “Eleanor, may I kiss you?”
She felt warmth rise through her face.
For a moment, she couldn't answer.
No man had ever asked her that so gently.
Henry treated affection as something owed.
Caleb treated it as something freely offered.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He leaned closer.
Then hesitated.
“Are you certain?”
Eleanor smiled through tears.