"No," she says softly. "I wouldn’t have kissed you."
"Well, there you have it," I say, running my hands through my hair as I swallow down the lump in my throat. Even she knew I wasn’t worth this. If I didn’t think I had to leave before, I definitely think it’s time to go now. I turn, walking toward the bedroom.
"Just like that?" she snaps at me, and I turn to look at her. Her chest rises and falls with one hand on her stomach. "So just like that, you come in here." She uses her other hand to point at the floor in front of her. "And kiss the ever-loving shit out of me." Her voice goes louder. "And then just say you’re sorry?"
"I don’t know what else to say," I say.
"Why did you kiss me?" she asks.
"I couldn’t stop myself," I say. "I’ve been dreaming of kissing you since I first met you. Since you smiled at me the first time and extended your hand out to me." I replay the first day we met. "You were wearing jeans and a white shirt. Your hair was tied on the top of your head. You reached out and smiled at me with your hand extended, and all you said was, ‘I’m Amelia.’" She just stares at me. "From that moment, I’ve wanted to kiss you," I admit. "From that moment, I fought kissing you every single day."
"But …" she says and shakes her head.
"I’m not the man you deserve," I say, the burning in my stomach feeling like my body is on fire. Like the poison in me is burning on the inside trying to get out.
"I never said that," she says, blinking away the tears in her eyes. "Not once did I ever say that."
"You don’t have to." I laugh bitterly. "Being here, being around your family. I know that I have nothing to offer you. I have nothing to offer anyone." My heart beats so fast in my chest I don’t know what to say. "There are things about me you don’t know."
"There are things about me you don’t know either," she says as one lone tear runs down her face.
My mouth is getting dry as my heart screams for her. "There are parts of me irrecoverably broken." Her hand flies to her chest, and I would give anything to feel her heart under my hand. "We are from two different worlds," I say, and for the first time in my life, I tell my story to someone.
"From the story my mother told me, she was sixteen when I was born." I tell her the story, my eyes never leaving hers. "Sixteen. She didn’t even have a mother herself. She was in a foster home when she met this guy who promised her the world. She was a waitress at a local diner. He came in one day, and she knew right away he wasn’t from there. The thick gold watch on his wrist, along with the brand-new SUV he drove made them both know they were from two different parts of the world. She didn’t think twice about him, and the next day, he came back, and this time, they started talking." I shake my head. "One thing led to another, and she got pregnant. He stopped showing up. She finally tracked him down, and when she told him she was pregnant, he laughed at her."
"Asher," she says my name.
"That’s not even the worst part. She had me, and it wasn’t an easy delivery. The doctor gave her pain pills, and she got addicted." My voice goes softer. "Having me killed her." I admit one of my biggest secrets that I’ve never told a soul. Not even my foster brother.
"You can’t believe that." She takes a step forward.
"If she didn’t have me, who knows where she would be," I say. "She tried." I think back, and if I close my eyes and concentrate just hard enough, I can see her face. "She tried to kick the habit, but one thing after another kicked her back, and then she was hanging around with another guy who promised her the world." I look down. "I was in foster care for three days, and she was sitting in a morgue. I didn’t attend her funeral because there was no one to pay for one. They got me dressed up one day, and I thought I was going to be adopted. I didn’t even know what that meant, but I knew kids said when they dress you up, they take you to your new family. Not me, they got me dressed up to take me to court to officially say I was a ward of the state. My grandmother showed up for five seconds to sign her rights over. My mom looked so much like her when I saw her, I cried ‘mom’ after her."