As Christine got ready to settle down with a late snack and a book about men being jerks, she heard her doorbell rang.
"Who is it?" she called out.
"Pizza delivery," called a gruff voice from outside.
"Yes! The pizza is here! Now, let's see: book-check. Ginger ale-check. A cuddly kitty-check. And pizza at the door-double check!" she giggled.
But as soon as she opened the door with her money in hand, her smile faded to a look of disgust when she saw Harry holding a pizza box.
"Hi, miss! Did you order a large pepperoni?" laughed Harry.
Christine slammed the door in his face.
"Come on, Christine! I had to pay extra to deliver it myself. Christine, I came to say I'm sorry for what happened this afternoon. You know, you were right when you guessed that there was more to the story than what I said. I would like to explain myself. Would it help if I retained you as counsel to have your confidence?"
Exasperated, Christine sighed and opened the door. "You better have a darn good explanation in hand, pizza boy. Speaking of which, how did you know I ordered pizza?"
"I ran into the delivery guy downstairs and asked where the box was going. Great kid! But like I said, he charged me a pretty penny for delivery."
Christine allowed Harry to come inside. After she shut the door, she turned to Harry, intending to listen to his explanation.
"Alright, Harry, say what you have to say and get out," she stated, arms folded.
"Well, that's rude, counselor, considering that I am more than willing to throw myself at your mercy. But first, let's eat. I only had a peanut butter sandwich tonight."
Christine couldn't believe that this man who rejected her, not counting when she was drunk, was taking plates from her cabinets and setting the table. However, she was curious about his reason for acting like a jerk to her, so she calmly sat down at the table while Harry served them both. Reluctantly, being a good hostess, Christine offered Harry her last bottle of ginger ale from the refrigerator (and hating herself for it) as she chugged her own bottle as they ate. Once there was nothing left but pizza crusts and empty bottles, Christine cut to the chase.
"Alright, Harry. Explain yourself."
"Okay. Christine, tonight, I realized... that I'm a big weeny who made the mistake of causing pain to a woman whom I've been secretly in love with for four years," blurted Harry.
Christine was dumbfounded by this revelation. "Huh?"
"The truth is," began Harry, "is that I'm afraid to love you. The truth is that I used ethics to be a buffer between you and me, but then, I get jealous every time you mentioned Tony's name or when you get excited over your dates with him or when I watch you leave the courthouse with him. The truth is that...I'm afraid that...that...you'll get bored with me and leave me."
The final revelation unguarded Christine. Harry rejected her out of fear of being rejected by her.
"Harry...why did you think I would leave you?"
"Oh, come on, Christine! In some shape or form, I was dumped or used, and honestly, I'm sick of it. I know that I don't have the best jokes in the world and I know that I can be corny and old-fashioned. I know I'm not the best-looking guy in the world or the bravest like Detective Guiliano, but at least I would have spent time with you when I said it. I would have never stood you up like he did. Why would I when I would have had the best gal in the world who's classy, intelligent, beautiful, and interesting. Christine, will you please forgive me and...be my girl?"
Christine didn't know what to say about that. Throughout this whole time, he loved her. He loved her, but different factors kept them apart.
All that she could say was: "Oh, Harry."
She reached for his hands on the table and this time, he let her touch him.
"Harry," she said, smoothing a stray tear from his face, "you don't have to be afraid of me leaving you. Ever. And I do forgive you for being a big weeny. I don't know what the future holds, but I want to go into it with you, no matter what happens. And if we end up...not working out, then it'll be because it wasn't meant to be. Let's try together."
Harry answered her with a kiss. For Christine, it wasn't the kiss of a prankster, but one of a man with longing in his heart.
Afterwards, Harry announced, "Well, counselor, I rule that we finish this with fifty kisses and the whole night under the sheets."
"Harry!"
"Just trying to bring a little humor into a mushy scene, Christine. It's been building up between us for years, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, Harry, but let's take it slow, okay?"
"It's okay with me, Christine. Whatever you like." Then Harry bravely whispered, "I love you."
"I love you, too, my love," she whispered back, as they embraced in another kiss.
