I shook my head, pulling her into me, holding her as tightly as I could as another sob wrecked me. I bent, pressing my lips to hers, but she shoved me back.
“Stop it! Stop! You have to go, you have to leave, Jamie.”
She breathed wildly, tears streaming down her face.
Please.
Please, don’t do this.
Please, don’t let me leave. Don’t make me leave.
Hold me.
Kiss me.
Be with me.
Ask me to stay tonight.
Ask me to stay forever.
I begged her, though I didn’t say a word. She felt every word I didn’t say as we stood there in her apartment, breathing fire, ice in our veins.
But she didn’t budge.
I growled, punching a box as I passed by it. It was full of pans, and it clamored to the floor, but I didn’t care. I stormed out of that apartment, out of that building, out of that city with my heart splintered into jagged, paper-thin shards.
And that was it.
That was really it.
I snuck into the church the day she married Brad, stomaching only the first five minutes before I had to leave. I just had to see it for myself, had to know that she really meant it, that she loved him and we were truly over.
Watching her walk down the aisle to him was all the gut-wrenching proof I needed.
I only flew to see her once more after that, to apologize for what I’d done, for how I’d tested her before her wedding when she’d already made promises to another man. It wasn’t fair. And she was right.
I was poison.
So, with one final parting gift, and a promise that I would always be there for her should she ever need me, I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
And I let her go.
Let us go.
Until the day I saw her goddamn book in the bookstore window.
AND THERE YOU HAVE it.
We’re all caught up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked B, and even then, even with a mixture of love and curiosity and fucking rage searing through me, I wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips of hers that were parted in shock at the sight of me.
“Jamie,” she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly unraveled me, nearly erased any questions I had or any urgency to know what the fuck that book meant. The way she said my name always tested my willpower, and at that moment, I nearly gave in, nearly pushed through that door and slammed her into the wall and took what I knew was always mine.
But I managed a breath, holding up the tattered book I’d read a dozen times in the last week.
“What the hell is this?”
Her eyes watered, lips rolling together. “It’s… well, it’s a lot of things.” She frowned then, opening her door wider. “Come in so I can explain.”
“Explain now.”
She smiled a bit, her shoulders relaxing.
And then, her hand reached out for mine, wrapping around where I held the book. That first touch, that first feel of her skin over mine made me shudder.
“Please,” she begged. “Come inside.”
With a deep breath, I nodded, letting her guide me into her apartment. So much had changed since the last time I’d been in it, which now I could only think about while simultaneously kicking myself for not seeing. How had I missed all those boxes still there? How did I not think to ask why she was living in this apartment when she should have been all moved in with Brad?
The signs were so obvious, and yet I was so fucking heartbroken I couldn’t see past the torrential rain pouring down over my entire life.
“Do you want anything to drink?” B asked, and then she chuckled, gesturing to an electric kettle. “And by anything, I mean tea or water? Afraid I don’t have anything stronger.”
My heart was unsteady and weak in my chest as I watched her move about the kitchen, something possessive clinging to my ribcage. But somehow, just seeing her, just hearing her voice calmed me — even without the answers I so desperately needed.
“No whiskey?” I teased.
Her eyes were sad for a moment before they found mine. “Not since the last time I saw you.”
My façade cracked, and I shook my head, looking at the book in my hand for a long moment before I let it fall to her kitchen counter with a thwap.
“What is this, B?”
She chewed her cheek, pouring herself a small cup of tea before she leaned a hip against the counter, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug. “It’s an apology. And an explanation. It’s a love letter, just like the title says.” She paused. “It’s our story.”
Our story.
I swallowed at how my pulse ticked up at those words.
“Our story,” I repeated, looking at the book and then back at her. “It has the worst fucking ending I’ve ever read.”
A surprised laugh slipped through B then. “Well… I guess that’s because I was kind of hoping that wouldn’t be the end.” Her smile fell then. “I was thinking maybe we could write an epilogue.”
“Come find me,” I said, repeating the last words written in that torturous book — the words I’d read and dissected a hundred times. “I’ll be waiting.” I shook my head. “Why did you wait? Why didn’t you just come find me?”
That question shocked her still, her eyes widening, throat constricting with a thick swallow.
“I wanted you to have the space to really decide if you could forgive me, if you could read my side of everything that happened between us and understand why I did everything I did. I…” She paused. “I didn’t want to just show up at your door and lure you in the way I knew I could — the way we’ve always been able to with each other. I wanted you to know that this time, it’s real. This time, there’s nothing or no one standing in the way.” She shrugged, her brows folding together. “Like I said in the end… I wanted you to choose me, too.”
“Choose you,” I repeated, laughing as I ran a hand over my mouth. Then, I let out a growl, shaking my head as I turned back to her. “Goddamnit, woman. I’ve always chosen you. There has never been another choice for me. You. You, and only you. That’s the choice.”
B looked like she was on the verge of crying, like my words were knives between her ribs. But still, she smiled, looking down at her tea with flushed cheeks before her eyes found mine again. “If that’s the truth, then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
The air buzzed around us, all those years of heartbreak and anger humming in time with the passion and love that had always existed. Half of me wanted to flip her couch and punch a hole in her wall and shake her like a damn rag doll.
But the other half of me, the stronger half, just wanted to stop wasting fucking time.
She barely had time to set her tea down before I crashed into her, wrapping her in my arms and crushing my mouth to hers. She whimpered when I did, melting into me, and distantly I realized I was crying. Tears wet my cheeks as a sob ripped through me, but I kissed her harder, held her tighter, swept her off her feet and blindly stumbled back to where I remembered her bedroom to be.
“You evil woman,” I rasped against her lips when I dropped her into the sheets. “You psychotic, infuriating, perfect fucking woman.”
B laughed a little against my bruising kisses as I laid her down, crawling over her until I pinned her into the mattress.