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“No!” Marissa slams her hands down on the table.
“Eee!” Yvette and Clara tumble toward each other with loud squeals.
Marissa stares at them like she can’t decide if she wants to laugh or scream.
Clara and Yvette collide—and then they’re kissing—deeply, passionately, frantically.
My eyes widen and I clear my throat, looking away politely.
“Not fair,” I mutter. “How the hell does she get to kiss her girl before I do?”
“Because she wasn’t a dick to her girl,” Deb mutters back with a smirk. “By the way, your girl is right behind you, doofus. I think you have some things to say to her.”
Shit.
I finally let myself look back at Elle.
If I’d done it during the case, I’d have lost my shit in a heartbeat, gone to her, begged for her forgiveness.
For her love.
But Elle’s not looking at me now.
She’s watching Clara and Yvette, her eyes streaming with happy tears. Her hands are clasped over her mouth, but it’s not hard to tell she’s smiling, laughing, crying all at once.
Yvette breaks away from Clara, smiling so wide, leaning into her to nuzzle their noses together tenderly before she pulls back enough to look at her daughter.
“Marissa,” Yvette says softly. “I’m sorry I never told you the truth, but I’m still your mother. I never stopped loving you. I want to be here for you, no matter what you’re going through. Please ... please, can we start over?”
Start over.
That’s what I want so badly.
To start again with Elle, this time being together for real.
Which means I have to man the fuck up and be honest about how I feel.
“Elle,” I say softly.
Her breath sucks in.
For a moment, she doesn’t look at me, her shoulders tensing.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes. “Clara asked me to come. I know I shouldn’t be here, but—”
“No—no, I’m glad you came, to be there for her, especially when I was preoccupied.”
“I see that.” She blinks. Despite the tension, she laughs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you figured all this out. You found her, August. You brought them back together. It’s amazing!”
“It is,” I agree, when all I want to say is, I want that. I want that with you. I fucking want what they have, and I’m not afraid to admit it. “I hope they’re happy now. Hope they can make up for lost time.”
She’s watching me intently.
Why is this so difficult?
Deep breath.
“Elle, I can’t lose more time making things right with you,” I grind out, my heart tumbling out in the open.
