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“Mmm-hmm,” I moan and push her hair behind her ears.
Unfortunately, her little act of vampirism brings her back into the moment, reminds her that this is happening, and she takes another half step away. There’s a flash of fear and panic in her eyes.
“Em, don’t,” I reach for her hand.
She pulls her hand away from me, which feels like a freight train plowing through my rib cage.
“We can’t do this,” she wraps her hands around herself, and her eyes get glassy, her hair whipping around as the night breeze picks up off the Danube.
“What do you want, Emily? Tell me.”
I need answers, direction, hope. I can’t have her and not have her. If she tells me there’s no chance, no way, I need to know. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it, it would snuff out any goodness, any light left inside of me.
“I don’t know,” a tear falls down her cheek, and she looks out over the river.
“Stop trying to think, tell me how you feel.” I take a step toward her, and she doesn’t retreat. I wipe her tear away with my thumb.
I fucking hate when she cries. It makes me feel totally powerless, yet there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make it stop.
“Is there any room, at all, in your heart for me, Em?”
“Room?” She turns back to me, and her shoulders heave, tears begin pouring from the corners of her eyes, “It’s been empty and hollow all these years without you.”
“Baby,” I pull her into me and squeeze her tight, wrap my hand around her head and hold it to my chest. She locks her arms around my waist and clutches me as she cries, tears soaking through my shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
I don’t think I can ever tell her how sorry I am, and I hope she never knows the depths or all the reasons why I’m so sorry. That would only cause more tears.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I want. I want to be mad at you. I’m supposed to be mad at you,” Emily mumbles against my chest.
“It’s okay,” I kiss her hair.
I’m plenty mad at myself for both of us.
“I need time to think about everything.”
It’s been six long, awful years. I don’t know how much more time needs to pass, but if that’s what she needs, that’s what I’m going to give her. This is all my fucking fault, anyway.
But for right now, I celebrate the win that she isn’t running away from me. Her arms stay around me, no running despite the consequences she fears.
I pull her away from me and push her wet hair back from her face, “We’ll take it slow, okay? As much time as you need. You set the pace.”
She nods then buries her head back into my chest.
Eventually, two Budapest police officers show up in their little blue sailor caps, and Emily has to convince them that I am not molesting her, which is funny on our walk back to the scooter but wasn’t funny at the time.
I was fairly certain there’d be photos of me being arrested and riding a pink Vespa in the papers tomorrow.
Still worth it.
Thirteen
Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps—Brussels, Belgium
Emily
Everything is a mess.
My head is still swimming in confusion over Cole and making out with him like teenagers in Budapest. I don’t know what came over me, I was like an animal.
