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Much to my delight, he baked cakes for us and made today the best Valentine’s Day ever.
It makes me sad to think that this is how it should end between us.
He waited all of this time to talk to me, and now all he wants is for me to come over and finish our impromptu date.
“I’ll wait however long it takes, Gemma.”
I lick my lips. “For what?”
“For you to trust me,” he grits out. “Hell, for you to love me as much as I love you.”
Did he really just admit that he loves me?! Did I hear what I think I did?
Oh God. What am I going to do? Deep down I know what my heart truly wants. But I’m scared.
Tears start to prickle my eyes as I listen to the lyrics of the song. The lyrics echo my innermost thoughts.
I know that I need to move forward. But I’m not sure that I can.
The main problem is that I’m always scared when it comes to love and relationships.
I’m unwilling to take a leap of faith.
That’s why when I saw that dirty text message from Natalie, I felt relief. Ugh! There must be something wrong with me for setting such low expectations for him.
I always expect the worst.
At this point, I’m just looking for excuses to call it quits.
When will I stop doing that?
Glancing over at my reflection in the mirror, I frown at myself.
You can’t keep getting in your own way,my inner voice says.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable,”I remind myself of the quote by C.S. Lewis that I wrote down one day long before I met Wyatt.
I need to start living. I’m not going to give up on us. I want Wyatt and he wants me, too. I’m not going to let this hiccup ruin our Valentine’s Day plans.
In a flash, I fix my mascara, put on some lipgloss and even throw on a new dress. Then, with a fortifying breath, I lock my apartment door and walk over to Wyatt’s apartment door. Much to my shock, it’s unlocked. With my heart thudding in my ears, I enter his apartment and lock the door behind me.
“You came back!” He stands to his feet and puts his guitar down.
Emotions clog my throat. “I want us to start over.”
“Me too,” he states quickly. “I’m sorry, Gemma. I just—”
I cut him off with a slow kiss. “I’m sorry, too.”
Wyatt cups my cheeks and deepens the kiss. “Let’s pick up where we left off. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, nodding.
We kiss frantically as he lowers his sweatpants. Next, I grab his t-shirt and pull it off of him. Then he lifts my dress off of me and picks me up.
“Are you sore?” he questions, his voice laced with concern.
I shrug one shoulder. “Just a little.”
