He smiles a sad smile as he cups my face and brushes away my fresh tears with his thumb. "The truth is I can't stop thinking about you, either. Every morning when I wake up, I have a split second of pure bliss where I think I'm waking up with you in my arms. And every morning, I'm wrong, and it feels like another part of me dies inside. Because I can't be without you now that I know what I was missing. I don't ever want to be without you again. Please… please tell me you feel the same way.”
His voice cracks on the last sentence. He stares at me with a desperate hope, the vulnerability etched all over his face. He looks like he's waiting for me to either mend his heart—or ruin it completely.
I’m struggling to believe the words coming out of his mouth. It’s almost too much to hope for. After everything that happened, it feels like a mistake to let myself hope again. Because I can't be broken like that again. I wouldn’t survive it.
But his words are there, hanging between us. He wants me. He loves me. I know he's not lying because I can see it in his face. He really does feel as strongly as I do, and he's asking me if I want to be with him. If I want us to be together.
The right words don't exist in this world to express what he's silently begging me for. So, I answer the only way we know how to communicate: I kiss him.
I press my lips to his with a broken sob. He responds instantly and wraps an arm around my waist to pull me tight against his body, his other hand fisting in my hair. Our kiss is passionate and hungry. It feels like we've been physically starved of each other.
He pulls back just enough to look down at my tear-stained face. With a smile and a look of pure adoration, he gently kisses my lips, my nose, my eyelids, my cheeks. He kisses away the tears on my face.
The whole thing is enough to make me want to burst into tears again. I tighten my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest.
"It's okay, we're okay," he mumbles as he strokes my hair. "We’re okay now."
He holds me as I cry silent, heavy sobs. He holds me like he never wants to let me go.
"I'm sorry again about what I said last week," he mumbles against my hair. "I couldn’t understand why you'd pushed me away, and then it felt like you picked Jason over me. I don't think I've ever felt as much rage in my life as when I saw you two together. I just snapped." I shake my head and burrow further into his embrace, and he tightens his grip around me. "I meant what I said the night of Aiden's party. You're mine. I just didn't know how to make you understand."
"Why did you—" He pulls away slightly so I'm not mumbling my words directly into his chest. But I can't quite bring myself to look at him, so I nervously keep my eyes down and fidget with the edge of his suit jacket. "Are you still seeing other women? Why did you tell Jax you'd never be able to settle down?"
"Is that why you pulled away from me?" he startles. His fingers grip my chin and lift my face to look at him. His eyes widen in shock. "You overheard me talking to Jax the day he got back?"
I nod weakly.
"Jesus," he winces. "You never should've heard that." He shakes his head, wrapping his arms even tighter around me. "I didn't mean a word of that. I haven't even thought of anyone else since you threw that girl out. Jax just has this really annoying habit lately of giving me very long and very obnoxious 'how to be a good boyfriend' speeches whenever he thinks I'm getting serious about a girl. I think he's just trying to pass on what he learned from his last breakup. But it's incredibly annoying. When I said those things, I was just trying to keep him from going off on his rant. I didn't mean a word of it. I'm so, so sorry that you heard it."
I consider his answer, then nod in understanding. The breath he must've been holding whooshes out in relief at my acceptance. He kisses my forehead and squeezes me tight again.
"Maybe subconsciously I didn't want to hear his speech because it was too much to hope that I was actually in a position to hear it," he mumbles against my hair.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe I really wanted to be a boyfriend—a good boyfriend—but didn't know where you stood with us."
I lean back to look at his face. He looks vulnerable and hopeful. I stand up on my toes to place a light kiss on his lips. "It's okay, we got there eventually."
A wide grin splits his face, and any remaining sadness disappears. He looks absolutely joyous.
But then a thought occurs to me and one side of my mouth twitches up in a smirk. "I guess now you'll have to actually hear the speech. What's on his list anyway?"
He throws his head back and laughs loudly. "You don't want to know."
I pinch his waist and he swats my fingers away with a scowl. "Come on, just give me one," I nudge.
His eyes start to twinkle mischievously. He leans down to whisper in my ear, "Well, step one is to make sure she comes until she's limp in your arms.Thenyou fuck her until she can't even scream your name…"
I shiver at his words—at the thought of him doing exactly that.
He nips my earlobe before kissing it gently. "Let's get out of here," he whispers. "It's been far too long since I've seen you naked. And you look absolutelyediblein that dress." He pulls back with a smile and runs a strand of blonde hair between his fingers. "Not to mention this new hair is a goddamn showstopper. You look like you were always meant to be blonde. I can't believe you finally did it."
A huge grin stretches proudly across my face. "Quit my job, too. I figured I'd do all the classic breakup things that girls usually do."
His eyes widen in surprise and a delighted smile appears. "You did? Holy shit, Remy, that's incredible!" He cups my face and kisses me enthusiastically before leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers against my lips.
I smile—an honest, happy smile—and grab his hand to lead him outside. We're almost to the front door when we run into a tiny old woman with a bird pinned to her hair.