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“You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
“You were seen together in Berlin.”
“So?”
“That’s proof—”
“Were we kissing? Holding hands? On a romantic getaway?”
Sofia’s eyes narrow. I got her. “We met for dinner. Once. She wanted closure. I’ll admit we parted ways more amicably than the first time, but no, Sofia. We never got back together. Now. It’s your turn. Stop dodging the question. I’m asking nicely now. Are you with him?”
She shifts in her seat and drops her eyes to her hands as she answers me. “We’re dating. Yes. It’s new.”
That sends me lunging from my seat and into pacing. I don’t want to explode and push her away like my temper always did back then, but fuck, this is not how I wanted this to go.
But really, what the fuck was I thinking? A woman that perfect? Of course she would have moved on.
“Bren . . .” She trails off as I keep pacing.
“How long?” I snap.
“How long what?”
“Stop being obtuse. How long have you been together?”
“Does it matter?”
I stop in my tracks to stare at her. Then I sit next to her, taking her hand in mine. “Tell me I’m not too late,” I plead.
She pulls her hand out of my grip. “Why now, Bren?”
That is a more complicated question to answer. How could I explain why it took me so god damn long to get my head out of my ass? How do I tell her about that grim period in my life? I became a recluse, saw no one, spoke to no one. All I did was work. I wrote, and I wrote some more. I wrote until my fingertips felt like they would bleed. My feeble attempt to stop thinking about her only resulted in all my writing being about her.
“I tried to stop loving you. I thought time would...” My voice cracks. “But it didn’t, and here we are.” My smile is weaker now as I reveal my vulnerability to her.
“Bren, there’s—”
I’m not sure I’ll have the courage much longer, and I have to say it while I can, so I interrupt her thought. “I still love you,” I stammer. “Please tell me I didn’t run out of time—that you still love me.”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel—”
“Yes, it does. It matters to me.”
“No, Bren. It doesn’t. You still want something I can’t give you.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say, closing my eyes.
“I’m not,” she says. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.”
I smile at her. “Schatzi...you are my dream. I’m just sorry it took me so long to square that with what I thought I wanted.”
“No. You want to be married. You want a wife, someone to take your name—all of it. I haven’t changed my views on marriage. And if you’re thinking you can one day change my mind, you have to understand I never will. Not on that front.”
“I’m okay with that. What I thought I wanted...it’s nothing without you. I’d still like to have children one day, but even then, I’d give that up if you truly didn’t want any. All I need is you.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “You want children?”
