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My throat tightened at the sight. It was like she was relaxed. Happy. Like she wasn't stressed anymore. Like she had Reagan back and somehow, everything was better. Everything was...right.
"Daddy said you went to work," Emma said, pulling away enough to look at her. Reagan smiled sadly as she smoothed her hand over Emma's head.
"Not yet," she murmured, and my heart dropped to my stomach.
Not yet.
Yet.
She was still leaving. This was her goodbye.
"When do you leave?" I rasped, but she didn't look at me. Instead, she just stared at Emma, tears filling her eyes. Her ignoring me hurt worse than anything else, but I deserved it. After everything I'd said, I didn't deserve her attention. I didn't deserve her forgiveness.
I pulled myself together enough to take a step, then another, and another. I walked past her on the way to the hall, trying to ignore every instinct in my body to go to her, to kiss her, to hold her. To love her.
Instead of doing any of that, I trudged to my bedroom, letting her and Emma have a few moments alone. But, selfishly, I needed to be alone. I needed to be away from her.
I sank onto my bed and buried my face in my hands, blinking the burning in my eyes away. I did this. I ruined it all so much that she couldn't even look at me.
Maybe I should throw my pride out the window and beg her to stay. Or maybe I can figure out a way to permanently work remotely, and Emma and I can travel with her. Maybe it would be good for Emma, to see the world and experience different cultures. Different people. She'd love the adventure.
But doing that didn't feel right. Uprooting her life so we could follow Reagan didn't feel right. We could be her home base, though. We could be the home she came back to after every time, to unwind and relax, to calm down after the weeks of teaching and being around people.
She didn't want to live here, though. And that was an easy enough fix. I was serious when I said I'd move anywhere for her. I could do that. I could move somewhere else, and while she was gone for the next six weeks, I could get a new house set up. I had time to make everything perfect for her.
With a surge of renewed energy, I shoved off the bed and strode across the room. This felt right. Being her home, her safe place, felt right. We could work out the traveling thing. It's what made her happy, so I could live with it. I could live with anything if I still had her in my life. In my bed.
I had to tell her I loved her. I had to promise her the world. Had to promise that we'd still be here, waiting for her when she got back.
I yanked the door open and abruptly stopped. "Reagan," I breathed. She had her fist lifted, like she was about to knock.
"Um. Hi." She dropped her hand back to her side, giving me a hesitant smile. “Emma’s in her room.” She twisted her hands together as I nodded. “I wanted to talk to you."
"Me too," I blurted.
We stared at each other, my heart in my throat as I took her in. Her face was paler than it had been a few days ago, and her lips were chapped. Her nose was red. But she still looked beautiful. She looked perfect.
A deep blush settled over her chest as she took deep breath after deep breath, the pulse in her neck beating wildly. I wanted to reach for her, smooth her flyaway hairs from her face. But I didn't.
Instead, I took a step back, opening the door further for her. She hesitated before stepping inside and closing the door. She leaned against it, careful to keep her distance from me.
I understood. But it was fucking killing me.
"So," I croaked. "When do you leave?" She dropped her eyes to the floor, her hands twisting tightly together in front of her.
"I—um—"
"Wait," I breathed, holding my hand up. She looked up at me, her lip between her teeth, and waited while I gathered myself enough to find the right words. "Can I say something first?"
"Yes," she whispered, barely audible.
I took a deep breath, clenching my hands into tight fists at my sides. I had one chance not to fuck this up. Again. I needed to fix things, if for no other reason than for her to know that I love her. Before she gets on that plane and flies away to live her life, she has to know that I love her. That I'm in love with her.
"I fucked up and said things I shouldn't have," I started, wincing as the words came out. Not the most eloquent way to start this. Shoving my hand through my hair, I began to pace. "First, I'm sorry." I paused to look at her. "I'm truly fucking sorry, Rae. I shouldn't have compared you to Meredith—that was so fucked. You're nothing alike, and that was unfair—"
"It's okay," she whispered, but I shook my head.
"It's not," I said. "It was wrong and—and I'm sorry. Even when I was pissed, I shouldn't have said that to you. I'd had a shitty day, and then when you told me you were leaving, I felt—I don't know. Abandoned, I guess."
