“Charlie.”His voice was rough, stripped of its usual polished calm.“We need to talk.Please.”
“We said everything in the tunnel,” I said, my own voice flat and dead.I didn’t look at him.I looked at my beer.
“No, we didn’t.”He took a step closer.I could feel the heat of him, the tension radiating off his body.“I was an idiot.A cold, calculating fool.I tried to protect you by hiding you, and all I did was hurt you.I chose appearances over the real thing.And I am...I am so sorry.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the teammates within earshot.Henry Emerson was apologizing.In a bar.
I finally looked up at him.The raw desperation in his eyes was a shock.It was the same look he’d had when he burst into my apartment, but stripped of anger.This was just pure, undiluted fear.
“You brought her to my game,” I said, the hurt bubbling up fresh and acidic.
“I was wrong.It was a coward’s move.I thought if I controlled the public story, I could keep our private one safe.I didn’t understand...”He swallowed, his throat working.“I didn’t understand that making you feel invisible was the same as rejecting you.I will never make you feel that way again.”
“It’s a little late for that,” I whispered, but the ice around my heart was cracking, and I hated it.
“I don’t care who sees us,” he said, his voice gaining strength, ringing with a conviction that made my breath catch.He said it loud enough for the whole table to hear.“I don’t care about the headlines, or the gossip, or the board members.I care about you.Only you.Please, Charlie.Don’t end this.Give me a chance to do it right.In the light.”
The silence around us was absolute.You could have heard a pin drop in the packed bar.
My eyes burned.I wanted to believe him.I wanted to so badly it was a physical ache.But the wound was too fresh, too deep.
“I can’t,” I choked out.“I can’t do this here.”I pushed back from the table, the chair legs screeching against the floor.I needed air.I needed to not have an audience for my breakdown.
I shoved past him and out of the back room, through the crowded main bar, and burst out into the cool, quiet alley behind the building.I leaned against the rough brick wall, dragging in shuddering gulps of air.
The door creaked open behind me.I didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
“Charlie,” he said, his voice soft now, closer.
“Just go, Henry.”
“I can’t.”He moved in front of me.The streetlamp painted his face in harsh shadows and golden light.He looked wrecked.Beautiful and wrecked.“Tell me what to do.Tell me how to fix this.”
“You can’t fix it!”I cried, the tears finally breaking free.“You broke it!You made me feel like I was everything and then you showed me I was nothing the second it got complicated!”
“You are everything,” he said fiercely, his hands coming up to frame my face.His thumbs wiped away my tears.“You are the most real, maddening, brilliant thing that has ever happened to me.I got scared.I got stupid.Please.Please don’t let my fear be the reason I lose you.”
He was begging.Henry Emerson was begging.
My resolve, my anger, it all crumbled under the weight of his words, his touch, the sheer, undeniable truth in his eyes.He was laying himself bare, with no calculation, no control.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Then let me earn it back.Every day.Let me prove it to you.”He leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine.“I love you, Charlie.I’m in love with you.And I don’t care who knows it.”
The world stopped.
He’d said it.The words I didn’t even know I needed to hear hung in the damp alley air.
Before I could think, before I could breathe, his lips were on mine.
It wasn’t like any kiss we’d shared before.It wasn’t claiming, or desperate, or hungry.It was an offering.A plea.A confession.It was soft and deep and heartbreakingly sincere.I tasted salt—his tears or mine, I didn’t know.My hands came up, fisting in the lapels of his wrinkled jacket, not to push him away, but to hold on.To anchor myself as my world tilted on its axis all over again.
I kissed him back.I couldn’t not.Every hurt, every doubt, was momentarily washed away in the sheer, terrifying truth of that kiss.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing raggedly, foreheads still pressed together.
“I need to think,” I breathed, the words barely audible.
