I hate reading about him with someone else. I hate feeling his pain. But having access to it, to his ugliest thoughts, all these things he doesn’t want anyone to know—
I want to read forever. If I had the chance… would I keep reading?
I fix more tea. Don a comfortable black dress. Pore over the pages until Addie interrupts me.
“Eve.” Her voice is nervous. Uncertain. “You have company.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Do you want me to tell him to leave?” she asks. “He did bring chai. He can leave the chai.”
“I can,” he says.
There’s his voice. He’s here. In my apartment. In my space, my world, my life.
I want it so badly. Too badly.
But he… I don’t know. I don’t know how to forgive him. If I already have. If I ever will.
I suck in a deep breath. Push out a heavy exhale.
Addie moves closer. Whispers through the door, “It’s okay. If you want him to leave, I’ll ask him to leave. I’ll let go of my dreams of you marrying Prince Charming.”
I just barely laugh. It feels so strange. Like shoes that don’t quite fit.
“What do you think, Eve?” she asks. “Do you want him to go? Or do you want him to stay?”
Chapter Sixty-One
Eve
“He can stay.” My words are a whisper. As foreign as my laugh. As traitorous as the flutter in my stomach. I want him to stay. I want him to hold me. I want him to love me.
“Really?” There’s surprise in her voice. Excitement too. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No. Not yet. Maybe…” If somehow everything works out. And I need his body over mine. No, I do need it.
Even though it’s so fucking hot in here.
Even though he hurt me.
“Okay.” She taps the door three times. Our secret knock. “I’ll stay out here. Until you need me to go.” She says it loudly. For both our benefits. Then a whisper for me. “Take your time.”
Doing what?
All the makeup and hair dye in the world can’t help me now. What’s it matter if my dress is cute or my shoes are right?
I guess, if this is the end…
I need an easy getaway. I put on my boots. Pack my purse. Wallet, cell, ID, journal. His and mine. All his secret thoughts, next to mine. It means something. It has to.
Deep breath. Steady exhale.
I move into the main room.
He’s standing in front of the door, hands in the pockets of his jeans, navy t-shirt falling over his shoulders.
Fuck, he looks just as good in casual attire. Still handsome, but less put-together. More vulnerable.
Like he really is showing me his scars.
I guess he is. He has. I just…
Can’t think with him this close.
“You own jeans.” My voice is strained. My throat is still raw. From crying. Screaming. Wanting to scream.
He nods I do. Stays exactly where he is. In front of the door. Waiting for permission to move closer.
“You look good in them.” I pull my bedroom door closed. This is the first time he’s really been in my space. It should feel like an intrusion, but it doesn’t.
I want to pull him into my bedroom. Drag him to my tiny bed.
He’s so tall. He won’t even fit on it.
“Thank you.” He stays in front of the door.
“It makes it hard to think. With you this close. With you so sexy.” I remember our afternoon in the limo. His hands on my skin. My body buzzing with desires. “Can you try being less sexy?”
“I can try.” He takes a half step toward me. Motions to the tea on the table. “Would you like it now?”
“You call that trying?”
“What would you like me to do?” He picks up the tea, offering it to me.
It’s three steps to him. My fingers brush his as I take it. “I guess we should start with your face.”
“My face?”
“It’s far too handsome. Maybe if you wear some dorky glasses…”
“Do you have some?”
I shake my head. “It won’t work anyway. You’ll look all smart and sexy. I can’t handle that.”
He half-smiles. “Sunglasses?”
“Only if they look ridiculous. I have some star-shaped frames. With pink glitter. I can get them for you. But… you’ll probably pull it off.”
“There must be something.”
“I think… The face is a lost cause. But this—” I draw a line in the air, around his torso. “Have you considered baggy clothes? Maybe a huge sweatshirt? Something to hide your physique?”
“It’s the middle of summer.”
“Sometimes you have to make sacrifices. For the people you love.” The word falls off my lips. It’s easier than it should be. Too easy. I want to hear it. Say it. Demand he say it.
“I do.” His voice is quiet. “I do love you.”
Fuck.
“It doesn’t excuse anything. It might not change anything. I’m not sure that you want to hear it. But I do. I love you, Eve.”