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I said nothing, avoiding eye contact, staring down at the tattered, old paper bag.
“Answer me, Wyatt. Why would you keep something so…awful? Do you like remembering that day? Because I don’t. I hate that day—it’s still the most painful day of my life. And what? You kept this as some sort of memento?” Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson. Her green eyes darkened as she studied me.
“No, of course not. You know me better than that.”
“Then why? Why do you have this?”
“Tilly, come on…you know.”
She recoiled. “Know what?”
“I kept it so I’d never forget.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to forget? Shit, I wish I could. You have no idea.”
“Believe me, I do,” I snapped, then instantly regretted it. Tears threatened to well in both of my eyes. My stomach dropped to my knees, and my mouth went dry. “But I can’t let myself. That bag will always remind me that I lost you that day. And that it was my own goddamn fault.”
She swallowed hard, looking away. “Oh. I didn’t—”
“I should’ve told you. If I had, then maybe we would’ve stayed together. Hell, we could still be together now instead of feeling like strangers. But we’re not. And we are like strangers. Aren’t we?”
“Wyatt—”
“I kept that fucking bag as a reminder that I have no one to blame but myself. No one else…just me.”
Tilly said nothing. And for a second, I thought she was going to walk out the door and never come back. Instead, her eyes filled with tears, and she took my face in her hands. Pulling me close, she pressed her lips to mine. Her lips were hungry as she took my bottom lip into her mouth, pulling gently before opening her mouth, inviting me in. Something intense flared through me, and I wrapped both arms around Tilly, pulling her into my lap. She straddled me as she opened her mouth, welcoming me to deepen the kiss. I wasted no time in stroking her tongue with my own, my hands traveling down to cup her ass as she shifted her weight against mine, moaning faintly above me. Waves of excitement traveled through every nerve of my body, and instantly, I was hard against her, pulling her in to rock against me as her lips claimed mine, leaving my mouth burning with desire.
A soft gasp escaped her, and she pulled back, pressing her forehead to mine. “Wyatt,” she whispered, “I don’t know if—”
“Tell me to stop,” I said in a harsh whisper, hoping to God that she wouldn’t. “And I will. I swear it.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she said, placing both of her hands around my neck, her green eyes peering into mine with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen from her in years. “But, I—I don’t know. I just…I don’t want to lead you on.”
“You’re not.” I shook my head.
“It’s just that you kept that bag, and I just can’t get over it, I mean…who does that?”
I shrugged, not sure what else to say.
“You brought it to Norway with you, and…what? You kept it for two years, then brought it back here?”
“Yeah. I guess I did.”
“And how long do you plan on keeping it?’
“No clue. But I can’t get rid of it. Not yet.”
“I want you to throw it away,” she said, her expression hardening. “Stop torturing yourself.”
“Until you can forgive me, I can’t forgive myself.”
“Wyatt, you said no timelines, no pressure.”
“I know. And I meant it.”
“You said we were just going to get to know each other again.”
“We are.”
