"Which is why we don't need to do it all tonight," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. "Go to sleep." She was quiet long enough that Ty let his eyes drift closed, the feel of her warm and snug up next to him lulling him toward sleep.
But then she spoke. "It would really be helpful if you answered e-mails and we synced our calendars if we're going to plan a wedding."
Ty sighed, and ran his thumbs along his eyebrows. He had to tell her, he knew he did. He was going to marry the woman, he could trust her with his secret. But the shame still bit hard. Forcing that aside, he said, "Imogen."
"You're going to tell me to shut up and go to sleep, aren't you?" That almost made him laugh. "No. I'm going to tell you that e-mail isn't a good form of communication for me because I'm dyslexic."
"Oh." She blinked up at him, squinting since her glasses were off. "Oh. I had no idea . . . God, I'm sorry.
I'm harassing you about it."
"That's okay, you didn't know. But now you do."
She didn't just look upset, just startled. "So, it's difficult and time-consuming for you to read? Is it just regular e-mails or is it the complexity of a calendar feature that jumbles words for you?" He should have known she would ask curious questions. It was time to be completely honest, instead of the half-truth he'd just given her. "It's both. I can't read at all, Emma Jean. I was good at faking my way through school, and I didn't figure out what was wrong with me until I was twenty or so. By then, it didn't matter. I had dropped out of high school to drive cars." Another little secret he had failed to mention to the woman getting her master's degree.
"What?" That finally seemed to stun her enough that she sat up in bed and stared at him. "You can't read at all? Like, at all? How do you function, then?"
Ty shifted up in bed as well, a little stung by how much her wording hurt him. "I told you, I'm good at faking it. I pick up on cues from everyone around me. I have a fantastic memory. You only need to tell me once and I'll remember it. I have Toni, the only person who knows, guiding me through paperwork and anything I can't figure out. And thank God for the BlackBerry and its little pictures. Technology has been a wonderful thing . . . Now I can tell who's calling by the picture that pops up."
"But, but . . ." She squeezed her fingers into her temple. "I've seen you do stuff. Like the touch screen at the airport . . . How did you . . ."
"When those things first started popping up, I had the ticket agent help me do it. Now I do it partly from memory, partly from common sense based on the pictures. It's not that hard."
"Ty . . ." Her look was agonized. "Shakespeare?"
His heart was thumping a sickening, dull thud in his chest. He didn't like the way she was staring at him but he had to be honest. "I listened to it on audio."
Her mouth fell open. "Oh, okay, I guess that makes sense. And . . . and you're saying you dropped out of high school?"
Ty nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me? You don't have to hide anything from me." Imogen reached her hand out and touched his cheek.
Overwhelmed with emotion and relief that she hadn't called him an idiot, Ty swallowed hard. "It's not
something you run around telling people. If they know, they're critical, passing judgment, or they treat you like you're a moron. If they don't know, it's a level playing field. And hell, I'm embarrassed. You're a very intelligent woman, Imogen." He used her real name intentionally instead of his nickname for her. "I didn't want a door closed in my face with you before I could even get it open all the way."
"I would never pass judgment," Imogen said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew that wasn't entirely true. Before she had known Ty the way she did now, she might have dismissed him as a typical Southern male, too stubborn to bother to learn how to read, even when it would make his life easier. She had since learned there was so much more to him than that, and she could see why he wouldn't tell anyone. Ty had pride, tons of it, and he would see dyslexia as a weakness. Why admit a flaw when he could just work around it?
But nonetheless, it bothered her that he had hid it from her.
"Come on, it's only natural. But I'm not stupid, I just have a messed-up brain."
"I don't think your brain is messed up," she said softly, sensing how vulnerable he felt. "But I do think that maybe this is something you should have told me earlier. I mean, I asked you to read Shakespeare.
You must have been sweating bullets over that."
He shrugged. "Shakespeare's easy because he's popular. It's obscure books that are hard to find on audio."
Imogen leaned against her headboard and stared at him, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. It occurred to her that this was the first time he was spending the night at her apartment. They were engaged to be married and they really knew very little about each other. "What is your real name?" she asked.
"Huh?" He blinked.
"Is Ty short for something?"
"No." He shook his head. "My mother didn't believe in naming a kid something twelve letters long only to call him by a nickname. Why?"
"I'm just sitting here thinking that we don't know anything about each other at all, Ty. We don't know each other's history, or family, or favorite foods. We don't know how we lost our virginity or a million other little details."
"I could tell you how I lost my virginity. It involves Bon Jovi, a keg party, and a Mustang." He grinned.
"And the car wasn't mine, it was hers. I wasn't old enough to drive." Imogen didn't smile in return. "I'm serious," she said.
"About what?" he asked, throwing his hand out in exasperation. "Why do we have to know everything about each other right this minute? People grow to know each other, and I'm sure even married couples who have been together for twenty years don't know everything about their partner's past or likes and dislikes. What's the big deal?"
How did she say that her biggest fear was that they would get to know each other and fall right out of love? That familiarity bred contempt and he would get bored with her and she would get impatient with him?
"The big deal is that what if we don't know pivotal things about each other? Things like your dyslexia define you and yet I had no idea that it existed."
The smile fell off his face. He sat up straighter. "Dyslexia does not define me. It's just an unfortunate pain in my ass. But it doesn't change the core of who I am. I would be the same Ty Jackson McCordle with or without it."
"Your middle name is Jackson?" she asked in dismay. "I didn't know that! And of course it affects who you are. You've spent your whole life hiding from everyone the fact that you can't read. It's difficult to carry that kind of burden, always afraid of getting caught. It's no wonder you engage in reckless and impulsive behavior. You have to pass yourself off as brimming with joie de vivre so no one will guess the truth."
"Don't psychoanalyze me," Ty said, his words tight. "Maybe I just enjoy myself, did you ever think of that? Next you'll be telling me the reason you're uptight is because you're suffering from penis envy." Imogen gasped. "Excuse me?"
"You know, Freud's theory on women. I have heard of Freud, you know, even though I'm too stupid to read."
This was spiraling way out of control. "First off, I never once called you stupid. Do not put words in my mouth. Second of all, I am not uptight."
He scoffed.
Imogen blinked at him in disbelief. "You are being entirely irrational."
"Of course I am, because you are always logical, right? Whatever."
"Don't whatever me."
"I'll whatever you whenever the fuck I feel like it."
The f word outside of sex always sounded so harsh. She winced. "Look, let's just both calm down and get some sleep, okay? Maybe we shouldn't have opened this can of worms tonight."
"I was just trying to be honest," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought you should know."
"I'm glad you told me," she said sincerely, feeling guilty. She did want the truth, and it couldn't have been easy for him to reveal his secret. "And I think you are a smart, amazing man, and I do love you." His expression softened. "Thank you. I love you, too."
"And now that I know, we can talk about ways to help you. There's no reason you can't be taught to retrain your brain so you can read. You could even get your GED if you wanted to." She hadn't meant to be anything other than helpful; after all, why couldn't he learn how to read and make life easier? But Ty not only sat straight up in bed, he pushed the covers off and climbed out, his expression stormy.