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Still, she couldn’t forget him no matter how hard she tried.
He was her first love, and even though they had only spent such a short time together as a couple, the mark he had left on her heart was a deep one.
The doorbell rang.
She wanted to ignore it, but it was Christmas Eve, and she didn't know why anyone would be knocking on her door unless itwas important.
Had she missed a phone call or text?
She rolled over and picked up her phone from the nightstand, but there were no missed calls or messages waiting for her. Maybe it was a neighbor who needed help with something.
Smothering a yawn with her hand, Samara headed downstairs and threw open the front door, and the words she had been about to say froze on her lips.
It was Michael.
Michael.
Standing on her doorstep.
For a moment she thought she must be hallucinating and rubbed at her eyes, but he didn't disappear.
She didn't say anything, and neither did he.
If she had to guess they stood there in silence, staring at each other for a full five minutes before she finally snapped to her senses.
Samara had the door half-closed before Michael suddenly shot out an arm and stopped her.
“I missed you,” he said. The pain and anguish in his voice said that he had, but he was the one who had left and stayed away. If he had wanted to see her there had been nothing stopping him.
She didn't know what to say to that, so she just tried to push the door closed.
But Michael had his hand on it, and he wasn’t budging.
If he wasn’t going to let her shut the door, then she’d just leave it open and walk away. If Michael could walk away, then she saw no reason why she couldn’t do it as well.
She hadn't gone more than two steps toward the stairs when Michael’s hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place.
The second he touched her all those feelings that she had been attempting to bottle up for twelve months came flooding back. The strength of them almost knocked her off her feet.
Why did he have to come back?
She had been working so hard to let go and move on, and now he was ruining that.
It was too late for them.
Wasn't it?
Samara mentally berated herself. Why was she thinking of picking up where things had left off when Michael had abandoned her, and she didn't even know why he was here?
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice agonized. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
She wanted to press her lips into a line and refuse to be engaged in conversation, but she wasn't going to sulk. If there was one thing the last twelve months had taught her it was that she had spent enough time in the dark. Now she was determined to seek the light every day. “Why did you leave?”
“I’m an alcoholic, Samara. When I jumped off that bridge after you and found you in the water in time to save your life, I should have been happy, relieved that it was over, that you were safe. Of course, I was relieved that you were okay, I don’t know what I'd do if anything happened to you, but all I could think about was what I would have done if you’d died. I couldn’t function. I sat in my kitchen for hours staring at a bottle of whisky. I couldn’t start something with you while I was in that place. That wouldn’t have been fair to you or to me. So, the last year I went to rehab, I joined AA, I have a sponsor, I have a therapist, and I'm working through my feelings about Heidi’s death. I love you and if I was going to have any shot at a life with you, then I have to have it together, otherwise I'm going to wind up hurting you, or me, or both of us. I didn't have my drinking under control then, but I do now.”
“I'm happy for you,” she said. And she meant it. She didn't want Michael to let alcohol destroy him.
“Walking away was the hardest thing I ever had to do,” hecontinued. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn't love you. I would have just kept walking the tightrope I’d been balancing on since Heidi died, pretending I was okay. But I’m here now, and I want you back, so the only question is, did I ruin things by walking away?”
