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He leans back, just looking at me. I have no idea what’s going through his mind. “Close enough,” he says eventually.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move. There’s a silence between us that should be filled. There are so many things that could be said, but it’s like we don’t have any words left. I wish there weren’t four years, an explosion, a suicide, a heart that can’t be mended, an engagement and two completely different versions of ourselves hanging between us.
But those things are between us.
I still love him. Of course I do. But maybe love isn’t enough.
I think he reads my thoughts. Or shares them. He breaks our stare, looking down to the floor before moving right in front of me. I hold my breath as he strokes my hair back behind my ear. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispers and presses his lips to my forehead. A gesture so tender that it makes me want to stay here, this close to him, forever. He brings his hands to my face. “None of this is your fault. None of it.”
I close my eyes to take my focus from his mouth and he pulls away from me.
“Anyone for hair of the dog?” he asks to the room.
“Urgh, God, no,” Rachel says.
I pull myself together and away from the kitchen side I’ve been gripping tightly. “He makes a mean Bloody Mary, Rach. You might want to reconsider,” I tell her, receiving a smile from Clark. A smile I’m happy to reciprocate.
Then I help him make a round of Bloody Marys, just like we used to.
