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“Good! Good, dammit. I think you think too much sometimes. I had to fly to Seattle again a couple of days ago. Garrett got a pretty serious concussion in a preseason game. I had to check on him myself.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s good. He has to sit out for a couple of weeks. His sister will make sure of it.”
I feel this horrible twist in the pit of my stomach. “You saw Gabrielle?”
“Don’t. Please? She’s what I need to talk to you about. I had a meeting with my boss while I was there. Let’s just say he’s not thrilled about me becoming a father and how it could potentially affect his cut of my business.”
“He said that? I mean, he actually said that? How can he get away with that?”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I want to stick around to find out. I walked out of his office and Gabi followed me. She took me for dinner, drinks, and a sales pitch. This is where your permission comes in. She’s working on branching out on her own, her own agency. She wants me to join her.”
“Seriously? You can do that? What about non-competes and all that?”
Wes takes hold of both of my hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “She says her lawyers are working on it. I think Gabs can really pull this off. This would mean I’d have more freedom in my schedule. I’d be able to work from New York more. I’d still have to travel, but I could have a family too. Don’t you see?”
My body starts to tremble. The tears bubble up from deep inside me. I want to shield my face with my hands, and I don’t want to let go of his. “No. I don’t.”
“I can be here with you and care for the baby. You were right. We can do this. For the first time, I truly believe that. Hayley, it took me watching you walk away and breaking me to dare me to move. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I broke you in the process.” He grimaces with a pain that could be as much his body as it is his heart as he gently pulls me into his lap. My legs fall to either side of him while his hands begin to stroke up and down my back. I pull my arms into my chest and tuck my fists under my chin. “Don’t you love me anymore?” he whispers.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. The tears continue to fall, rolling down my skin. I can’t take the raging conflict inside of me. It shouldn’t be this hard. What am I doing? Am I protecting myself or am I preventing myself from what I want, what I think I’ve always wanted?
My hands slowly open. I can feel the tremor in them all the way down my arms. My fingers trace across his jawline. Every blade of stubble sends a tingle through the tips. It feels like we’ve been apart forever and I’m touching him for the first time. I allow myself to find his eyes again. They mirror the sadness I have felt for weeks.
“Wes, it was never about not loving you. I told you I’d always love you. I will.”
“Don’t tell me no and don’t talk about us in the past tense anymore. Give me a chance, Hayley. Give me a chance.”
“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before I do something he asked me not to do. Think.
His hands tremble, his whole body does. “Yes? Yes, what?”
“All of it. Yes, to all of it. I’ll give you a chance, I love you, and…I will marry you.”
He exhales finally and his shoulders sink. A devilish smile, the one that tells me he’s him, begins to creep across his lips. “Really?” he whispers. “You will?” I nod slowly and give him a small smile. He folds me into his chest. He’s so warm. His heart beats quickly beneath my ear. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”
“You tried to climb a building for me. I think I understand.”
“Hayley, I’d walk through fire for you. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”
I lean back so I can see his face. I’ve known Wes when he’s being a jokester, when he’s in best friend mode, when he’s sad. I’ve seen him smile before, but I think this is the first time I’ve seen him truly happy. “Holy shit.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m getting married. We’re getting married.” He laughs until he huffs in a couple of pain-filled breaths. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Come in the house with me.”
I climb off his body carefully, minding any possible injuries. While towering over his still-seated frame, I offer him my hand. I’m watching very closely as he stands and checks every limb. Wes tentatively shakes out each foot, leg, and knee. He bounces on them slightly. Once he’s showing the ability to walk, I wrap his arm around my shoulder and mine at his waist. We walk at his pace into the house and close the door behind us.
It takes a minute, but we make it up the stairs into my bedroom. I clean off the couch at the foot of my bed for him to sit on. I run into the bathroom, grab a small hand towel, and warm it up with water. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch each of his shoes fall open and he’s able to wiggle out of them on his own.
When I come back to him, I kneel at his feet. The scratch on his cheek is one of my first concerns. I wrap my hands over his ribs to gauge if he’s broken anything. Wes doesn’t flinch. He simply follows me with his eyes. Even when I’m cleaning the cut on his face, his eyes are still fixated on me.
All the feelings I missed the last time we were together are back. I can feel my body responding to the little things. The sound of his breath, the hints of gray in his eyes, the smell of his cologne—even though I know it’s been on for hours—the feel of his thumb tracing down my cheek. The only sense I’m missing is taste.
I wipe the last bit of blood away from his cheek. Wes takes the same thumb he used to touch my cheek to move to memorize my lower lip. He grazes across it so lightly that if I closed my eyes, I’d wonder if he was even touching me. I let him manipulate my mouth in any way he likes. After his thumb has its fill, his lips take over.
While we were apart, I couldn’t bring myself to think about his kisses or his touch. It was part of me depriving my being of what I needed. I saw it as a hangover from the abuse I put my body through at my own hand. I even spoke to my therapist about it. I had to forget everything to survive. Well, survive as I knew it to be.
