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“More than you’ll ever know.”
Her teeth slid over her bottom lip, toying with the plump skin. My eyes lingered on the sensual play until she released the well-loved flesh and parted her mouth. “I do know. Because I feel the same way.”
Hope blossomed in my chest, but I refused to succumb to it. Not until… “Say it,” I pleaded. “Please. I need to hear you—”
“I love you,” she said, and my heart pieced itself back together. “Always have and probably always will.”
I brought my forehead to hers, letting the words fill me before capturing her mouth in a desperate frenzy. I kissed her, pouring my soul into it, giving her every last drop of me. She had always owned my heart, but now she owned every part of me.
“I love you,” I said with a smile as relief and joy filled my veins, pumping hard and fast through my body, heart, and soul.
“I know, and thank you for not giving up on me.”
“Never.”
It may have taken almost two decades to get here, but she loved me, and that’s all that mattered.
I wanted to stay. I did. But as soon as I woke up and looked over at Laurent, looking so sexy and peaceful, that stupid voice in my head started in. The itch to slip out became too much, and I succumbed to the need to get away.
A quick visit to the guest room, I gathered my bag and what was left of my shirt, and tiptoed toward the door. Guilt flooded through me, but it wasn’t enough to override the damn voice of fear in my head.
You can’t stay.
You’re getting in too deep.
What happens if you get sick?
He wants kids. A family. You might not be around to have a future.
It’s for the best.
I glanced at my cell and had ten missed calls from Marion. Ten. I tapped on my phone and saw emails and texts. Apparently, Parker told her she was calling off the wedding, and somehow that was my fault. I did not have the patience to deal with her shit today. I shoved my phone in my bag and quietly made my way down the hall.
Laurent stood at the door in nothing more than boxer briefs. It was a crime to look that damn good this early in the morning. My fingers twitched, eager to touch him, but my brain focused on the door, calculating a way out. My body shifted, my feet ready to take my chances and plow past him.
“Why do you always leave?” he asked, his voice defeated, deep, hurt.
The deep rumble of his voice was dripping in sadness, and it damn near broke my heart. I wanted to reach out to him, tell him it wasn’t him, and that I was sorry. I didn’t want to leave, but the voices became too loud, shouting their disapproval and reminding me Laurent wanted things I couldn’t give him. “It’s better this way.”
“For who? You? Because it’s fucking torture for me.” His eyebrows pulled together, lips turned downward, and his body slumped against the wall as if he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up anymore.
I did that to him. I drained the life from him. I’d been so selfish, forcing my way back into his life, showing up on his doorstep, knowing damn well he’d never turn me away, and not to mention ruining his entire life and reputation once this fake engagement blew up in our faces. And it would. It was only a matter of time.
We weren’t engaged in real life, and at some point, we’d have to move on from the charade. But if I dug deep, past the fear, past the shit that had me out of his bed and running for this door…
“You’re right. I run. When things get complicated or messy, I run. It’s easier. But now, I’ve been running scared for half my life, and I have no idea how to stop.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as the realization slammed into me. “I want to stop, but I don’t know how.” My voice cracked as sobs wracked my body.
Years of pent-up emotion broke through the walls I had erected and poured out of me.
“Come back to bed,” he said, but I shook my head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because despite all the right things you say, I can’t let the fear go.”
“What fear?”
