He’s trembling a little, either from the cold or from the effort of holding all this in, and it makes my heart clench in a way that feels both devastating and hopeful.
“I love you,” he continues, almost defiantly. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I love you because you’re you. I want all of you. Your sarcastic, dry humor, your baggy pajama pants with cartoon characters all over them, your collection of fuzzy socks, your Diet Coke obsession, your brilliant mind, and your gentle heart.”
His lips twitch as the smallest hint of a smile fights through the emotion.
“I want to watch all the sparkly vampire movies with you and stay in and watch football while you read your books with shirtless men on the cover,” he chuckles as water fills his eyes.
“I want the days when you’re on top of the world, and the days when you can’t get off the couch. I want every version of you, even the ones you hate.”
For a moment, I can’t breathe—can’t think—can’t do anything but feel the intensity of his words.
It’s like being cracked open as everything I’m self-conscious about is being gently held in the hands of someone who loves those things about me. There’s a warmth spreading from the center of my chest, a feeling that has lain dormant for years.
He leans closer, pressing his forehead to mine.
“If you want me to back off, I will. But you should know that you can’t scare me away. Not even if you tried.” He hesitates, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You’re my best friend, Meadow. You always have been. But I want more than that. I want forever with you.”
My hands are shaking as I set my coffee down on the side table and reach for his waist, my fingers curling in his jacket. My eyes sting as big, fat tears start to leak down my cheeks.
I want to respond with some grand, romantic monologue, so he knows exactly how much I love him.
But what I feel for him is too much to even put into words, so I swallow a sob and whisper, “I want that, too. I want you, Owen. More than anything.”
I watch pulse pound against his neck as he hangs on to every word.
“And I’m so sorry,” I continue, reaching up and running my fingers against his stubbled jaw. “I ran because I’m so scared of how much I want you. You have no idea how bad I wanted to tell you that night on the beach…”
I stammer, my words catching in my throat.
“Tell me what?” Owen asks, his eyes flicking between mine.
I’m crying now, really crying, the kind of crying that can’t be hidden by quickly swiping away tears, but Owen doesn’t flinch.
He watches me with a look so open and unashamed that it makes it easier, makes it feel almost normal to be falling apart.
“That I love you,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I love you so much, it scares the hell out of me. I love you more than I ever thought possible. I’m so in love with you that I feel physically ill without you. And I’m so fucking sorry, Owen, because I can’t live like this… without you.”
A weight lifts off my chest as I lay my heart bare, giving him all of me.
“Meadow,” Owen exhales, at a loss for words as he shakes his head. He’s crying, too—quiet and wet tears slipping down his cheeks.
“Please don’t apologize to me,” he croaks. “You have every right to sit with your emotions and process them. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
The heaviness that’s been pressing down on me since we left Costa Cay eases, just a little, and I almost believe him. I want to believe him.
It’s terrifying, the way he looks at me, the way his eyes dare me to accept a future I’ve never allowed myself to hope for.
I search his face for any sign that he’s bluffing, but all I see is the same desire and hunger that I feel in myself.
“Do you promise?” I mutter, because I need to hear it.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“I promise,” he says, swiping his thumbs along my cheeks while holding my gaze. “I fucking swear on my life. I’m yours, Meadow. Always yours.”
My lips quiver as a small smile pulls at the corners.
“Then kiss me already,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks.
