Then, before I could stop myself, I stepped closer and whispered, “I want to kiss you. Please let me kiss you.”
Her eyes stayed on my lips for a moment before slowly lifting to meet mine.
And then, to my surprise, she nodded.
A quiet gasp slipped from me, but I didn’t waste a second. I had to kiss her—had to—before everything inside me burned up.
The bottle slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud as I pulled her into my arms. I leaned down and kissed her.
I kissed her with everything I had. Everything I felt for her poured into that moment, every emotion that had been building inside me. My love. My apologies. My promise to be better. To never let her carry anything on her own again.
I had been waiting to kiss her for what felt like forever, and now that I finally was, it felt like something inside me might shatter. I couldn’t contain it. The rush of emotion, the need, the sheer relief of having her this close again overwhelmed me.
The kiss deepened, urgent and aching. My hands moved over her like I was trying to hold on to something I thought I’d lost, afraid to let go.
And when she sighed, when she let out those soft, breathy sounds and kissed me back with the same fierce need, it only fueled the fire already roaring inside me.
We kissed for what felt like forever. Her arms slid around my neck, pulling me closer, and I tilted my head to deepen the kiss even more.I traced the curve of her back with one hand while the other tangled in her hair, holding her as if I could never get enough.
Then my lips found her neck, and my hands slid around her waist, lifting her up effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around me as I backed us up against the wall, her body pressed into mine, responding with the same urgency.
But then she stopped. Abruptly.
Both her hands pressed against my chest, and I felt a gentle push. She was pulling away.
I leaned back slightly, breathless. “Sloane?”
“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I want to kiss you. God, I do. I’m dying to. But I can’t.”
I pulled back a little more, though my hands still held her arms, her palms resting lightly against my chest.
Then she gently untangled herself from me and set her feet back on the floor.
She looked up at me then, her eyes glassy.
“We need to talk abouther,” she said softly. “Before anything happens with us. There’s so much I need to understand.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sloane
Cameron looked caught off guard by my question. I saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected me to ask. Maybe it wasn’t easy for him to talk about. Maybe it never would be. But the truth was, he had already made his decision. He walked away. He chose her, not me. That much was clear.
Still, I needed to understand.
Why?
Why, after ten years of marriage, did he finally let go?
Why did he stay for so long, only to walk away? Why hold on through all the hard years, only to break everything in the end?
She would always be there now, a shadow in the background of our lives. No matter how much I tried to forget, she would linger between us. And if I ever tried to go back, that doubt would still live in me. I would always wonder. I would never feel completely safe in his promises again.
However, I was also not blind to my own mistakes.
I hadn’t always been good to him. I’d hurt him, pushed him away, built walls I thought would protect me, not realizing they were keeping him out. Therapy made me face that. It made me reflect on how deeply I’d wounded him, even if I didn’t mean to.
I needed to hear it from him. I needed to know what had gone through his mind when he gave up on us, when he let someone else into the space that used to belong to me. I wasn’t looking to start a fight. I just needed to understand how we ended up in this situation.
