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I tilt my head toward hers. She stops talking. I press her body closer to mine. I can’t get close enough.
I want her.
And I do something so foreign to me, it stuns me.
I forgive her.
Will she forgive me?
And then, I do the most natural thing in the world.
I believe every word she says. A surge of emotion renders me speechless and the only right thing to do is kiss her.
My heart beats faster.
Her lips part like an invitation, and when my lips meet hers, she yields to me. I hold her face with one hand and her back with the other. I’ve touched her since I’ve taken her into my custody, but nothing like this. My touch is tender and gentle, but urgent. I want her.
Cosette carries my baby.
My child.
Cosette is mine.
Her eyes close as if she wants to savor this moment. This reunion.
My lips move softly against hers, a silent apology for everything I’ve subjected her to. I feel like an asshole for what I’ve done.
Too soon, she pulls away. She frames my face with her hands and our foreheads touch.
“I’m so sorry I betrayed your family. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
I swallow, my voice husky when I tell her, “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but I want you to know how sorry I am. I truly thought you betrayed us. I’m sorry I couldn’t see the truth.”
“It’s my fault,” she says, then finally laughs. “Listen to us, trying to outdo each other with apologies. We should have been honest with each other from the beginning. You should have given me a chance to explain, and I should’ve trusted you with the truth.”
There’s more at stake here. We were a couple once, but she put an end to that.
“We have shit to go over, Cosette.”
“Yeah.” She looks down at her hands. “I know. And I’m sorry, too.”
“Did you end it because you were pregnant?”
When she doesn’t answer at first, I know. She fears being with me. She was the one who pulled away, not me, and she knows it.
“Yeah,” she finally says. “I was scared. I was afraid you’d accuse me of trying to get pregnant on purpose, so I could take advantage of you.”
Is she kidding right now?
“What the hell is that about?”
When she looks back up at me, she sighs. “It’s complicated. It wasn’t personal, I just… struggle with getting close to people.”
Sometimes, people in club settings feel they know someone better than they do. There’s an immediate vulnerability that leads to a level of trust. And then you realize… you never really knew them at all.
I want to get to know her.
I want to put all this behind us.
