I take a sip and damn if he wasn’t right. It’s as if I’ve never tasted good coffee before. “Oh, my God. This really is the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
With a told-you-so shrug, he clinks his mug against mine. “Trust, Ms. Ross.”
It’s a teasing remark, but we both feel its significance too. How many times did Nick say those very words to me after we first met? How often did he press me for honesty and trust, even though he knew all along that he wasn’t giving me the same thing?
Reckless.
That’s what I was with him the first time. There’s a part of me that fears I’m stepping into the same snare now, getting too comfortable too quickly. Justifying the pain we’ve both caused each other because of the pleasure we take in being together.
There is something dangerously comfortable about the way it feels to slip back into our old habits as if the past year hadn’t happened. As if last night has erased it all and we’re back together again.
It’s unsettling how much I want to believe that we can simply pick up and resume what we had. Terrifying how quickly my heart is ready to let him back in.
I set my mug down, then pivot away from him to serve our far-from-gourmet breakfast. Nick moves in behind me, brushing his knuckles tenderly along my cheek.
“You’ve gotten quiet. You okay?” When I only nod, he puts his mug on the counter next to mine, then turns me around to face him. He’s scowling, but it’s not anger I see in his eyes. “If this is going too fast for you . . . If it’s uncomfortable having me here, tell me. I’ll go.”
“No. It’s not that. And I don’t want you to go.”
“Then what?” He sounds truly worried, as if I’m the one with the power to wound him. “Avery, if you think last night was a mistake—”
“It wasn’t.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Last night felt too good to be a mistake. All of this, being with you again like this . . . it feels too good to be a mistake.”
“Because it isn’t.” His tone is as resolute as his touch is gentle. He cradles my face in his palms, searching my gaze. “I won’t let this be a mistake. Not this time. Not if you can forgive me for what I’ve done.”
“I did some awful things too. I lied to you about a lot of things and you forgave me.”
“Yes. Because I understood you kept all those things from me in order to protect yourself. From your past. From the people who could still hurt you. And, yes, even from me.” His thumb traces my lips. “I forgave you because I loved you, Avery. I still do. Christ, I would do anything for you.”
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in.
“Tell me you believe me,” he says quietly.
“I believe you, Nick.” I brush my fingers through his inky black hair, helpless to keep from touching him. “And I love you too.”
He breathes out, a sound of relief. Of hope. “Can you forgive me?”
“I already have.”
“But you don’t trust me.”
“I want to, Nick.” My mind crowds with all of the reasons I have to be careful, to be wary around him now. We both came to each other via deception, no matter how either of us needs to rationalize our actions or justify our motivations. We both have our excuses. We have our demons to be slayed. But if this is going to work—if we stand any chance of lasting—then we have to rebuild on a foundation of truth.
“Avery, tell me what I need to do.”
“No more secrets. No more games or power plays.” I shake my head, realizing my ultimatum could end this even before it begins again. But it’s the only way. Anything less would already be a lie. “I need honesty from you this time, Nick. You need to let me in. You need to trust me. If you can’t give me that—”
“I can,” he says, his voice intense with emotion. “Anything, Avery. I’m not going to lose you again.”
“You’d better mean that.”
He nods solemnly. “Every word.”
Then he kisses me, gathering me close and holding me there for the longest time. When we separate I look up into ocean blue eyes that have gone stormy with desire. The same desire that’s smoldering inside me.
Nick kisses me again, slow and deep.
He pushes his shirt off my shoulders and it drops onto the checked tile of my kitchen floor.