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“You looked for me,” she gasps, her breaths shallow as her chest rises and falls.
I stop in my tracks. “What?”
Closing her eyes, twin tears fall as she clenches her fists and leans her head against the door. “Did you look for me?”
Fuck.
My head falls between my shoulders as I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the headache blooming behind my eyes. There’s only one person who could have known that, and even she wouldn’t have known the meaning behind it.
“You spoke to Emily?”
Her eyes widen to saucers, chocolate orbs swimming behind a sea of tears. She was waiting for me to confirm what she already knew but couldn’t believe.
She stutters, her hand coming up to stifle a sob. “When?”
My mind filters through the times I’ve thought about her enough over the years to do a quick Google search or seek her out on social media. I never found anything.
I wouldn’t, would I? Especially when I was looking for Bethany Rose. Not Beth.
Bethany Rose disappeared that night, leaving me wondering if I had dreamed her up.
What started out as a simple curiosity for the woman I spent a weekend with, somewhere along the way turned into a fantasy. And I could never put my finger on why. She crossed my mind a lot after she left. Just a passing thought. As the years went by the thoughts became a little less. She began to fade. But then there were those days, the days when a brief memory would flood my mind, and it set something off in my head. A switch was flipped, and I would spend the entire day thinking about her.
Until she came back into my life, I didn’t know why.
Beth isn’t a woman you forget about. Her memory embedded itself in me and festered throughout the years. In one weekend, I felt more connected to her than any woman I’ve been with since, including the woman I was willing to marry. Which is fucked up, I know. Emily deserved more of me.
Did I end my engagement because of Beth? No.
Knowing what I know now, did she have a part to play? Maybe.
Which doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
My connection with other women ended when they left my bed.
Until her.
I’ll never know how, in such a short period of time, she was more. Beth was always more. Even if I didn’t fully understand it.
Truth is, I still don’t.
Maybe I don’t have to understand it.
“Why?” She looks pained, like I’ve garnished a dagger and driven it straight through her chest.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I give her honesty, and I don’t know how much that will do. “I wish I had a straight answer for you. Fuck, I really do, but I don’t know. You were just there. Somehow, you stayed with me.”
With the answer, her breathing calms. I find myself taking a steadying breath with her.
Looking down at the floor, she wipes mascara-soaked tears with the flesh of her palms.
My chest constricts until it’s painful to breathe because knowing her now, knowing what’s she’s been through, a knot of guilt burns in my stomach.
I didn’t look for her hard enough.
Unable to take another minute without having her in my arms, I walk towards her, but she holds a trembling hand out to stop me.
And fuck if it doesn’t hurt.
