Page 95 of A Match Made in Error

Her.

It was always her.

Every conversation that lasted too long. Every laugh that hit too deep. Every moment that felt quieter when she wasn’t there.

I swallow hard, something unfamiliar climbing up my throat. Not fear exactly, but almost. Because this? This is the part I’ve never done. The part where I don’t get to walk away untouched.

My hand comes up, almost hesitant, brushing her cheek like I’m confirming she’s real.

You almost lost this.

“Poppy,” I sigh softly, the name catching on something sharp in my chest.

For once, the words don’t come easily. For once, there’s no clever line waiting to save me. I breathe, this shuddering realization robbing me of my calm, collected swagger.

She looks up at me. “Yeah?” Her voice is somehow even more beautiful when it's coming from outside my head.

My pulse stutters. My usual confidence gone. Stripped clean, like it never existed at all.

“I—” I drag a hand through my hair, huffing out a quiet, disbelieving breath. “This is going to sound like I’ve lost what’s left of my mind, because it’s been one day, but…” My gaze finds hers again, and there’s nowhere to hide. No deflecting. No armor. “I love you.”

The words land between us, heavy and irreversible.

And it hits me, harder than any blow I’ve taken, that I’ve never said them before. Not when I was young and stupid enough to think I understood them. Not in the throes of passion. Not even when it would’ve been easy.

I’ve been holding onto them.

Waiting.

For her.

Her expression shifts, soft and bright and devastating all at once. The teasing curve of her mouth gentles into something softer.

Like she’s not surprised.

Like she’s been standing here, waiting for me to catch up.

“I know,” she says, voice warm, certain in a way I’ve never been, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I love you too.”

And just like that, everything I’ve ever been afraid of feels…survivable. For a second, I don’t move. My first instinct is not to trust it. My chest tightens like I’ve taken a hit I didn’t see coming, only this one doesn’t knock me down. It splits me open. I search her face like there has to be a catch. A joke I missed. A moment she’ll take back.

There isn’t.

Just her, looking at me like I’m not something temporary. Like I’m worth keeping.

Fate.

My hand lifts before I can think better of it, fingers brushing her jaw, slower than I’ve ever touched anything. Like she might disappear if I move too fast.

“You don’t—” I start, then stop, a quiet, disbelieving breath leaving me. “You really should reconsider. I’m a terrible long-term investment.”

It’s automatic, the joke. A shield. But I don’t pull my hand away—if anything, I step closer.

“I love you.” She doubles down, her hand over mine just in case I try to pull back. She’s not going to let me.

My thumb drags lightly along her cheek, grounding me in something real. Something that stayed. Because she stayed. Through it all, she stayed. Late night brawls, a dozen horrid girlfriends, business partners leaving, three failed Festivals. She stayed.

That realization hits deeper than the words. I let out a quiet huff of a laugh, shaking my head like I can’t quite wrap my mind around it.