Page 28 of Scars and Crowns

"Why me?" I ask.

The question leaves before I can stop it. He answers immediately. "Because you know me."

A laugh escapes me. "So much has changed." I shake my head. "I'm not that girl anymore."

"I know."

"I'm not the annoying little shadow who followed you everywhere."

His brows draw together instantly. "You were never annoying." His voice is firm. "I have never thought that of you. Not once." The certainty in his tone almost hurts. I force myself to keep talking before I lose courage.

"I have a daughter." I wait for a surprise.

Judgment.

Questions.

Anything.

None of it comes. His expression doesn't change. Not even slightly. Only his eyes soften. "She's my whole world." My voice grows steadier. "I need this job."

"I need stability."

"I can't risk . . . "

"You think I'd ever see her as a problem?" His interruption is quiet. But unwavering.

I stare. "I don't want to burden—"

"Anamika." The way he says my name makes me stop speaking altogether. "You . . . " His jaw tightens. " . . . or anyone who comes with you . . . " His voice drops. " . . . can never be a burden to me."

Silence settles between us.

The words linger. Too sincere to dismiss. Too dangerous to believe.

"Sara." Her name escapes before I can stop it.

His entire face softens. "I know." A tiny smile appears on his beautiful face. "I read your HR file yesterday." He lets out the smallest laugh. "She looks adorable."

My own lips betray me. "She is," A fond smile slips through despite everything. "Except when she's being stubborn."

"So . . . " His eyes brighten slightly. "She takes after her mother." A laugh escapes both of us at almost the same time. Just for one fleeting second . . . The years disappear. It's only us again. Two old friends laughing over something ridiculously ordinary. The feeling vanishes almost immediately.

I straighten. "No." I shake my head. "Whatever this is . . . I can't. You could marry anyone."

"I don't want anyone." His answer is immediate.

It silences me completely.

"Why?"

The question hangs between us. He doesn't answer right away.

Instead . . . He looks past me. Toward nothing. A tired smile touches his lips. "I'm still . . . " He exhales softly. " . . . the same lonely man you took pity on."

My heart aches. "I never pitied you." His eyes return to mine. The smile this time is gentler.

"You knew me." He pauses. "You still do." He gulps and inhales deeply, "I've never . . . " He searches briefly for the right words. " . . . opened myself up to another person the way I did with you."