I almost breathe a sigh of relief when his coffee’s ready and he goes and takes a seat, but he selects a table across from the counter, right in my eyeline.
The next hour is absolute torture. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. Every time I chance a glance at him, he’s watching me.
I don’t even know why he’s here. He could be here to beg for my forgiveness and ask me to get back with him. Which I absolutely will not do.
Yeah, sure you won’t.
Or maybe he’s here because he feels guilty about how we ended and he wants to apologize and then go home. Although traveling four thousand miles to apologize does seem a little excessive when he could have just called.
I just wish I knew what he wanted. I’m driving myself nuts here. I could ask one of the girls to cover, so I could take my break early. But I don’t want to rush for him. I want to make him wait even if it means torturing myself in the process.
Finally. After what seems like an eternity, even though I’ve been busy this past hour, it’s time for my break.
I grab my bottle of water from under the counter, and on shaky legs, I walk over to him, my heart taking the back door exit. My mouth dries, and I can no longer feel my legs shaking. I’m assuming they’ve gone numb.
I slide into the chair across from him. Setting my bottle on the table, I curl my hands around it. “You have ten minutes,” I tell him. “But first, I have a question.”
His look is wary. “Okay.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I know people in high places.”
I love and hate the smile that touches his lips in equal measure. So, I give him an unimpressed look.
He shifts in his seat. “I asked one of my Secret Service guys to locate your aunt Jenny’s address. I went there, and she told me you were here.”
I’ll be having words with Aunt Jenny later. The traitor.
“Fine. Your ten minutes starts now.”
He sits forward in his chair, pushing his empty coffee cup to the side, bringing him closer to me. “I love you,” he says, flooring me.
Those words are like a bomb. Dropped in the middle of the table.
I feel them hit my chest, like a mixture of shrapnel and Cupid’s tiny fucking love arrows.
My heart inflates.
My brain cries out in confusion.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I love you, Dillon. I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry that I fucked up. I know I’m probably getting all of this wrong, just blurting out that I love you like that, but it’s the truth.”
My insides are trembling with shock. “And, uh”—I lick my dry lips—“when did you, um, realize that you love me? Was it before or after you broke up with me?”
“After.”
“What, like a day? A week? A week and six days? What exactly made you realize? Because I’m a little confused that you’ve turned up here out of the blue after two weeks of no contact and you’re telling me that you love me when the last time I saw you, you were telling me that we would have an ending, that there would be no start of something for us. Pretty much, you told me that you had zero feelings for me at all.”
“I had feelings for you. I just didn’t understand them, and honestly, when I started to a little, they scared the shit out of me. Then, I read the end of your book. All I could see was you and me together like that, and I panicked.”
“If the thought of you and me together causes you to panic, then you shouldn’t be here, West, telling me that you love me.”
“That’s the point. It did scare me. But it doesn’t now. I’ve had time to think things over, and I talked with Coach. He helped slap some sense into me.”
“Literally?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
“Dillon, when we started out, I said that I would never lie to you. But I did—the moment that I told you that we had to end. I didn’t want that. But I thought it was the only option. I knew then that I had feelings for you, but I told myself that I was no good for you. That I couldn’t be the man you deserved. I’m not good at this stuff. I’ve never even had a relationship. You were my first.”
He’s acknowledging that what we had was a relationship. That’s a start. It also helps to melt some of the ice in my chest.
“This isn’t an excuse, but my dad cheated on my mother throughout the course of their marriage, and I saw what it did to her. It broke her down piece by piece until there was nothing left. I know this isn’t rational, but at one point, I even thought that her tumor came from the stress he’d put on her in their marriage.”
“Why didn’t she ever leave?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Love maybe. Dependency. I never asked her. All I knew was that I would never become the man my father was even if that meant not having a relationship to avoid hurting someone. With you, I knew I’d eventually do whatever was necessary to push you from my life, even knowing it would hurt us both.”
“You’re not your dad.” I lower my voice.
“You’re not your mom, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying that you could be.”
He’s got me there. No matter how much I try and tell myself that I’m nothing like her, that I never will be, that fear is always there, lingering. What if I turn into her without even realizing, and then once I’m there, it’s too late to turn back and undo the damage?
“So, what’s changed? What’s different now?”
“I can’t live without you. I tried for two weeks, and it fucking sucks. I can’t function. I barely sleep. My game is shit. I’m just shit without you.”
I look down at the table and scratch my nail over the wood. “And what is it that you want from me?”
“A chance. Just like you gave me … well, my character in the book when he fucked up toward the end.”
My eyes flick to his. “You read it all?”
“Yeah. It’s really fucking good, Dillon. I don’t know much about romance, but I know ours was really fucking epic. Until I messed it up.”
I press my lips together. “I don’t know.”
“Please, Dillon. I’m not above begging. If I have to get down on my knees here and make a total ass of myself, I will.”
He starts to slide off his chair, but I grab his arm, stopping him.
“That won’t be necessary,” I hiss.
“So, you forgive me?” His eyes light up.
I feel that ache in my chest again. “I forgive you. But …”
“Don’t but me.”
“West, when you broke up with me, it gutted me, but after being home a while and thinking over things …” I let out a sad sigh. “We would have broken up at some point anyway. I live here, and your life is in America. Long distance never works. Not long-term.”
“If I could stay here with you, I would. But my job is in America.”
“You’d live in Hull?”
I’m shocked, but also I just couldn’t see West here. The thought of him living in my little corner of the world makes me want to laugh. Everything about him is too … big for Hull. And I’m pretty sure his dad would have a coronary if his son lived here.