He turned away with that and almost reached the steps before she could speak past the tears choking her.
"I love you, Alex."
He turned around then and looked at her. "What'd you say?" His eyes were dark and hot, still mad at her - with good cause. She hadn't considered what her silence would cost him. All she had though about was avoiding a confrontation with her father.
Alex stood waiting.
"I - I said I love you."
"Say it in Spanish."
She swallowed, wondering if he only meant to humiliate her more before he walked out of her life. "Te amo, Alejandro Luis Madrid. Corazon y alma." She started to cry then, hard wracking sobs. He caught hold of her and poured out his feelings in Spanish. Though she didn't fully understand the words, she saw in his eyes and felt in his touch that he loved her.

-----

Staring our the window, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier." Sierra didn't want to talk about it.
"I can't make any decisions yet, Alex."
"I can understand that."
"I grew up here."
"I know."
His response was clipped, neutral. The wall was still firmly in place between them. The first brick had been laid when he took the job in Los Angeles. More has been added since, day by day, month by month, over the past two years. She didn't even know anymore who was inside the wall and who was outside.
"I miss you," she said softly, brokenly. "I miss the way things used to be."
He looked at her then, his eyes bleak. She knew he was deeply troubled, that he wanted to say something if import. Maybe he was as worried a bout their marriage as she was.
"I'm going to leave tomorrow. I think it'd be better that way. It'll give you a chance to think things over."
What things? She wondered. The house? Or was there something he wasn't saying?
He left the window. "I'll go down and tell the other you'll be with us shortly."
"Alex?"
When he turned, she stood. Gathering her nerve, she took the risk and let her feelings show. "Would you hold me? Just for a minute." He came to her and did as she asked, but she felt no comfort. His arms were around her, but it was as though he withheld himself, his heart.
How could he be standing there, holding her, and yet seem so very far away?

--- (excerpt from The Scarlet Thread by Francine Rivers)