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Shit. Did I do this to her? Did I ruin love for her? God, I hope she is not like this because of me. The selfish part of me jumps up and down in victory. But the selfless part of me, he stands in the corner with a baseball bat, beating the shit out of himself.
“I’m sorry,” I say the words before I stop myself.
“For what? Ruining me for every other man in the world. Don’t be sorry. I don’t want or need your pity. If I wanted to, I could have dated more and been in a solid relationship. But I get to decide. Is it such a bad thing to be picky? Especially after your soul has been crushed by the one person who was supposed to protect it.”
Slap. Fuck, that stings. But I sure as shit deserve it.
“Can I walk you in?” I ask, wanting to steer us away from talking about this now. Not when I know she’s not sober. Not when we can’t discuss what happened rationally.
“What? That’s it? You’re done talking about it, so conversation over?”
She shoves her door open and gets out, slamming the door behind her. I rush to get out, to catch up to her before she gets inside. Halfway to her back door, I catch her wrist in my grip.
“No. That’s not it at all. I just don’t think we should be having this discussion when you’re not one-hundred-percent coherent.”
She huffs, trying to yank her arm from my hand. “You’re ridiculous. You bring up the topic of discussion, but when it gets too thick… conversation done. It makes me dizzy.”
She sways and I want to tell her it’s not the conversation making her dizzy. But I don’t because she is already pissed at me. Yanking her arm, I release her wrist and she wobbles to the door, me on her heels.
I hand her the key ring with three keys and she unlocks the door. As she steps through the door, I go to follow her and she stops.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s late. Can I sleep on your couch? I won’t bother you and I’ll leave in the morning. If not, I’ll find a ride.”
Her eyes wobble a little as she studies my face. After a few breaths, she nods. “Couch.” It’s all she says as she walks toward a door I can only assume is her bedroom.
“Thanks,” I whisper into the darkness.
Walking slowly through her quaint house, I locate the couch and kick off my shoes. I check my watch and realize it is really fucking late. Or is it really fucking early at this point? Whatever. Thank God tomorrow is an off day for the shoot. Because both of us would be fucked if it wasn’t.
I stretch out on the couch, situating pillows and a blanket around me. Shifting my hips and my neck until I get comfortable. Am I really in her house? Or is this all just some bizarre dream? It all seems so surreal. Seeing her again. Touching her again. Smelling her again. Fuck, how I have missed everything about her. Even the way she says my name.
Her adorable smile. The subtle fragrance she wears. How she peers up at me. The way her body reacts to mine. As if no time has passed.
But it has. And I fucked up. Big time.
Staring up at the ceiling, my eyes lose focus as the moonlight casts shadows from the tree outside the window. Shadows of limbs and leaves dance and entertain me. Tonight, so many things have happened and changed. It’s overwhelming to think of how life and our relationship could possibly shift in the future. Shift in a positive way.
The future… something I always dreamed I would have with Cora, but wasn’t sure would happen. I wasn’t sure I would ever see her again, but wished for it often. Wished on every star in the night sky. Wished with every penny I threw in a fountain. And wished every time I blew out a birthday candle.
When I boarded the plane in Los Angeles, the possibility of seeing her seemed minuscule. So outlandish. So impossible.
But fate intervened. Slapping us together and giving us the opportunity to discover each other again. To learn about all the years we missed out on. Learn how much we have changed yet remained the same. And now that things are lining up for both of us in our respective careers, the possibility of a future with her has greater potential. If a future with me is what she wants.
Please let it be what she wants.
If she would be willing to try with me again—if she gave me a chance to explain—I would move my life back here again. Back home. To her. For her. In a heartbeat. Regardless of my life and family and friends back in California, I would leave it all behind if I knew we stood a chance.
The day I was forced to tell her my mom received a promotion and we were moving out of state was the day my life started falling apart. One speck at a time. When my mom told me the news, I hesitated to tell Cora. Not because I didn’t want to, but because when I did tell her, reality would hit hard. And when I shared the news with her, expressing the pain and anguish I felt at leaving, she held me and soothed me. She was the strong one, telling me we would be apart for less than two years. That we would see each other during breaks and summer. Less than two years and we could be by each other’s side again.
We had it all mapped out.
Unfortunately for us, it didn’t work that way. Within ten days of being in California, my life was utter chaos. Upset and angry, I lashed out. Got in fights and provoked anyone near me. I think a part of me thought if I acted out, I would be able to return to where I wanted to be most. Where I belonged. With Cora.
But it didn’t work that way and I shut down. To my family and Cora. I allowed my anger and frustration and sadness to consume me until numbness took over. A numbness that pushed me forward, but I lost every real part of who I had been. Including Cora.
It may have taken thirteen years for me to return—by complete accident—but I am here. And I plan to do whatever it takes to regain all I have lost. I will make up for every tear she cried. Every sadness she suffered. I will make up for every pain and absence of love she has endured since I left. She deserves nothing less from me.
