He smiles, an amused look in his eyes. “Your father came by the house last night, and I happened to open the door. He punched me in the face before saying anything. Then he told me to come over here to talk to him this morning. So what’s going on is that I decided last night that I was going to stop hiding—before your dad showed up. It was time.
“I was going to tell both of them how I felt about you, and damn the consequences. Because that’s what was between us, and I wanted everything out in the open, even if they completely rejected my feelings. I was tired of having to pretend.”
“He hit you?”
Bryce smiles. “He did. And it was worth it.”
My stomach is fluttering, and I’m nervous. But I feel hope for the first time in forever, like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “What did you say? What did they say?”
He reaches out for my hand and I let him take it. He pulls me closer, slowly. “I told them that you were special. That you weren’t just a fling or something to satisfy a fantasy. I told them that you had reached in and wrapped yourself around my heart and that you hadn’t let go.
“I told them that we both tried not to do this, but even with all the time and space between us, fate found a way to put us together. And that I’d tried to fight it, and lost. I told them that I love you. And I do, Katti. I love you.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I step into his arms, the pain of everything surfacing, and relief flowing through me as it heals. He leans down to kiss me, and I let him. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and testing and perfect. It’s what our first kiss might have been, if we’d had it years ago. “I love you, too,” I say, even though my voice is shaking.
I kiss him this time, pulling him close to me. I’m just as desperate as I was last night, but it’s a different kind of desperation. I need him. But I need him to know that I love him and that I’m sorry, and that I did fuck up. I should have trusted him. And that I’m thankful he stuck with me anyway.
He pulls away, chuckling. “Don’t you want to know what your parents said to me?”
“You can tell me,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. My mom and I had a talk last night, too. And she told me to do what makes me happy, damn it all, just like you decided. And I’m going to try, even if it doesn’t come naturally. Because what makes me happy is you.”
“Good,” he says. “I’m so happy to hear that. But they really are fine with it. It’s going to take some adjusting with me and your dad, but he got in his punch. They both gave us their blessing.”
I kiss him again, wrapping my arms around his neck so I’m closer. “I’m glad.”
“Now that that’s out of the way,” he says, lifting me so that my legs wrap around his waist, “you and I have some catching up to do.”
“Did my parents really leave so that we could have sex?”
He laughs, loudly and freely so that it fills the house. “No. They knew that we needed time to talk, and agreed to go out for a few hours so that we would have time.”
“So they know?” I ask.
“They definitely know,” he laughs. “But I don’t think they expected us to make up so quickly.”
He’s carrying me through the house, and I tuck my head into his neck. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I was wrong. I know I was wrong—but I just wanted to do the right thing for everybody.”
“I know that, baby girl. But that was the problem. You forgot about yourself. The fact that you wanted to make everyone be okay is sweet, but I’m going to make sure that you remember yourself from now on. I’m going to make sure you’re the happiest goddamn person on this planet.”
He brings his lips to mine as we walk, and I hope he can feel my regret and my hope and everything in between. “Where are we going?”
“We talked a lot about going back and doing things differently,” he says. “So I thought that we might do just that.”
We reach the back of the house, and I help him open the door. But I don’t realize what he means until he carries me toward the pool house. “The party?” I say, laughing. “You want to reenact the party?”
“I think reenacting that would take a whole lot more alcohol than we have on hand. But I want us both to have some memories in this pool house that aren’t regret.” We walk in, and he sets me down, not wasting time stripping me. I let him peel my shirt over my head and shove my pants down to my ankles. “That’s better,” he says, “though I do miss that yellow bikini.”