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But he didn’t sound like A. Didn’t have those green eyes he has now. He made a fool out of me!
“You need to open this fucking door!”
He sighs, clutching my face with both palms, ignoring my pleas, forcing me to look at him and him alone. Those full lips drop closer, brushing against mine.
“That’s not my name. Never was.”
He kisses me. Just once. Just a touch of our mouths, and my soul weeps. It cries out for him, needing him, this man who’s made me feel as though things I once dreamed of are actually possible.
But now? All we have are lies. He isn’t A. Not my A. Yet he is. And reconciling these two things is getting harder by the second.
My head spins, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle back together. How can he be Chris? I don’t understand.
“You can’t be A. How is this even possible?” My vision clouds, moisture building within my gaze.
“Just let me tell you everything before you leave, alright? Just give me a chance to make things right. Please, Kayla.”
His eyes search mine, helplessly begging for something I don’t know if I’m capable of giving. But he’s A. He’s been my A this whole time. How can I not hear him out?
“Fine.” I nod. “Tell me everything. But this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I deserve that.” His eyes go downcast, and he exhales. “I need to start at the beginning.”
He takes my hand in his, and those tingles I’ve come to love whenever he touches me grow even stronger. Instinctively, my hand tightens around his.
“Kayla…” he whispers, my name a plea for mercy. “You’ve been a gift in my life, and I’ve never gotten one of those before.”
I suck in a breath, crying softly, caring so much for this man, hating that he’s never even had the things every person should. I ache to hold him and tell him that he’s the gift. That knowing him has made me a better person.
But I can’t say any of those things because he’s been playing me this whole time, pretending to be two people. He had so many chances to tell me, but he didn’t. I want to forgive. But how the hell do I trust him again?
“A, I don’t know how to do this.” My brows furrow, not wanting to lose him.
Yet I can’t forgive him. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“I don’t know how to do this either, but you and I, whatever this is, it’s real.” His gaze bores into mine. “And I need to know that for once in my life there’s a person worth fighting for. Worth finding out whether I’m capable of things I never thought I was. And you, little wolf, you gave me all that. You changed something inside me. I can’t deny it. Even while I can’t put a name to it.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” I cry, shaking my head.
“I couldn’t. Not at the time.”
“What’s your name?” I ask. It’s as though I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.
His lips start to move, and I wait there, needing it like oxygen.
“My name is Adriel. And my mother is Fernanda… Fernanda Marino.”
“W-w-what?” My heart climbs into my throat. “I—I don’t understand.”
He pulls me toward the bed, and when I try to sit down beside him, he gently curls his arms around my hips and carefully settles me on his lap.
I try to get off, but he hardens his grasp on me.
“Don’t. Just stay. Let me be honest with you. Let me give you parts of myself I’ve never given anyone before.”
My heart’s heavy, seeing and hearing his anguish. And before I can stop myself, I lower my mouth to the corner of his and kiss him.
He breathes in sharply and snaps his palm to the back of my head. Keeping me there. Silently, our hearts beat as one. I’m afraid to move or breathe because in this moment, I forget he’s Chris. I forget that he’s lied. He’s my A, and he always will be.
