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Why can’t we just sit and stare at the wall and experience the same kind of emotional release? I’d be okay with that.
By the time Owen arrives thirty minutes later, I’m a wreck. A puffy-face ruin. And I hate that he sees me like this.
Cursing softly, he steps into Dylan’s kitchen and slides his arm around my waist to pull me close.
I try to stop him.
I try to push him away.
I try not to let him in close.
But he won’t have any of it.
Pulling me into his arms, he brings one hand to the back of my head and presses a kiss to my forehead while I start crying.Again.
“Stop being you,” I grumble into his chest as my tears fall.
“I’m not stopping.”
My arms slide around him for a long time.
For too long.
I could live in this chest just as much as I could live in his neck.
I try to memorize it.
The feel of his hardness.
Of his muscles.
Of hissoul.
When I unwrap my arms and try to move out of his hold, he hesitates. He doesn’t want to let me go.
“I took a job in California.”
He drops his arms and allows me to step away from him. “Okay. But that doesn’t have anything to do with what we need to talk about.”
“It negates the need for that conversation.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does. I’m moving across the country.”
“So, we’ll be separated by a six-hour flight.”
“I’m not interested in a long-distance relationship.”
“Neither am I, but I’ll do it for you.”
“Forever?”
His eyes bore into mine. “No.”
“Right. So there’s your answer. This relationship has an end date.”
His eyes keep boring into mine. “It doesn’t. I’ll move if you decide to stay in California.”
