She reached for my hand, clasping it firmly. “When I heard about you and Nicky, I couldn’t just sit by and let you two miss the chance at love again. I want you to know he loves you. He’s always loved you. He hated that he loved you, but he did it anyway, because it was stronger than him. Over the years, I’ve watched as he fought it. As he struggled to understand why he couldn’t fall in love with anyone else. Your name always came up. Every single time. He thought you scarred him. But the truth is, you just never left his mind. His heart. You know him, Arya.” She spoke softly, dropping her voice. “You know better than I do what kind of person he is. He’s made a few mistakes, sure, the biggest of them not telling you who he was. But he would also give up the world for a second chance with you. Please reconsider.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I’d already thought about it. That I wanted Nicky just as much as he wanted me. And Christian too. I wanted who he’d been and who he’d become. Each day spent without him felt like a terrible waste. But Alice beat me to it, standing up and taking a step back.
“No.” She raised her hand to stop me. “Don’t tell me. Tell him.”
Suddenly, he was there. Alive and beautiful and heartbreakingly not mine. He wore jeans and a white shirt. Every nerve in my body was on alert, pushing me to jump on him in tears.
The waiter approached with the pastry platter. Alice shooed him away. “Seriously? Can’t you see that they’re having a moment? Put that on the bar; I’ll take care of these puppies in a second.”
I made a mental note to never, ever come back to this place again. My food was so going to get spit on.
Alice nudged Nicky in my direction before turning around and swaggering toward the bar. He took the seat in front of me. My hands shook. I couldn’t believe I’d ever been mad at him for anything. This man who had been through so much because of me. For me. Who’d made so many sacrifices in his life while I’d lived in my ivory tower, nestled in designer everything and my own privilege.
“I get it now,” he said, sounding somber and a little contemplative. Christian produced something from the leather briefcase he carried and dropped it on the table between us. A copy of Atonement. The spine wrinkled to death, the edges tattered from usage.
“The book,” he explained. “I read it. Twice, actually. Back to back yesterday. By the time I was done, Jillian told me you’d already left work.”
“I see Jillian has been doing a lot of legwork behind the scenes,” I muttered.
“Well”—Christian flashed a lopsided grin—“she knew it’s either her doing some legwork or you kicking me to the curb.”
“Did you like it?” I swallowed. “The book, I mean.”
Of course you meant the book. What else would he think you meant? Jillian’s legs?
He shook his head gravely. “No.”
My soul felt heavy and soggy and full of dark things.
“I fucking loved it. I’d watched the movie before—our library scene made Keira Knightley and James McAvoy look like amateurs, by the way—but hadn’t read the book until now. It made me understand you. The book is about class, guilt, and the loss of innocence. All the things that we experienced together. That bound us. But there’s one thing I don’t understand.” His bluest-blue eyes bore into mine, and the fine hair on the back of my neck stood on end. He parked his elbows on the table, leaning forward. “How can you not forgive me when you know Cecilia and Robbie needed to end up together? You are tampering with your own happy ending, Arya. And I won’t have that. This is unacceptable. Not just for me but for you.”
Tears covered my eyes. For the first time in my life, I cried publicly, and I didn’t even care. I, the great Arya Roth, symbol of independence and feminism. “You fool,” I groaned, pained. “You absolute, complete idiot. I’ve always loved you. Always been obsessed with you. I coaxed you into kissing me, for crying out loud.” I was laughing and crying now simultaneously, always a good look. “Every step of the way, I was the one to initiate things between us. The only reason why I didn’t run after you to Belarus when we were fourteen was because I was too embarrassed. I thought I was pestering you. I was mortified after what Conrad had done. Even then, I couldn’t stay away. Not all the way. I kept writing and hoping and praying.”
We still had that stupid table between us. I wanted to pick it up and hurl it across the room like the Hulk. Every moment not spent in his arms was a waste.