She lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “As long as it takes.”
“For what?”
“To earn your forgiveness.” She sucked on the inside of her cheek. “And to earn my own forgiveness.”
His blue eyes pinned her to her seat, when all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him. But first she had to explain herself, say sorry. Let him know that walking away from him was the biggest mistake of her life.
“I’ve done a lot of things wrong,” she said. “A lot of mistakes. Sometimes the same ones over and over.”
“We all make mistakes,” he said quietly.
“I made some of the biggest. Like walking out of here to go back to people who don’t give a shit about me when I had someone who cared standing right by my side.” She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, because she didn’t want this to be a sad moment. This was a triumphant moment. A butterfly moment.
And she wasn’t going to let a single tear fall.
“I was chasing a lie, hoping for a different result even though I’d been doing the same damn thing over and over for years. Trying to force something that wasn’t going to happen.”
“What happened when you went home?” he asked.
“Nothing. Not a thing had changed, except me.” She looked into his eyes, hoping he could feel how sincere she was being. Hoping that those feelings he’d confessed to still existed. “I became a different person while I was here. I changed. I evolved. I finally started to figure out who I wanted to become, rather than only ever seeing the image my parents dangled in front of me.”
“Good for you.” There was a hesitation to him, a distance. She couldn’t blame him for being that way, because she wasn’t about to walk out of here without telling him exactly how she felt.
“I should be crediting you. I was in the deepest hole I’d ever been in my whole life, and you were the rope that helped me climb out.” She swallowed. Despite her determination not to cry, tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them into submission. “If it wasn’t for you, I probably would have gone home and buried my manuscript under my bed and gone back to my old life, telling myself I wasn’t good enough to chase that dream.”
“That would have been a tragedy.”
“Yeah, it would have. But when I got home, I saw…that life didn’t fit me anymore. I’d grown too much. And that’s because of you.”
“You did the hard work, Cora. I only nudged you in the right direction.” His hand drifted to her hair, tugging softly at one springy curl. A dimple formed in his cheek as a smile emerged.
“I’m sorry I left,” she said. “But I needed to go home and see it for myself, that Manhattan held nothing for me anymore.”
Trent bobbed his head but said nothing. The bartender put a beer in front of him, without him having to ask.
“I…uh, I’m not very good at this.” Cora reached for her drink and took a sip, but it tasted like sawdust. Nothing would be right until she got everything off her chest. “Usually I’m the one who gets dumped, so I’ve never had to try to fix things before. But I need to fix this. I came back here because I wanted to see you and tell you to your face that I messed up. I messed up so badly, and I’m so scared that you hate me for it.”
“I don’t hate you, Cora.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Trust me, I understand why you left.”
He understood, but did he forgive her? That was the question she needed answered.
Her fingers drifted to the necklace hanging around her neck, the one containing the pendant he’d hidden in her carry-on luggage. The fine gold ridges soothed her, as though each link was infused with his calming spirit.
“You found it,” he said, nodding to the necklace.
“It’s perfect.”
“Perfect for a broken caterpillar?”
“I know I’m not broken. In fact, I think I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be. I’d just never given myself a chance before.”
“No, you hadn’t.” He bobbed his head, keeping one hand wrapped around his pint glass. The frosted edge was wearing off, melting under the warmth of his touch. Her body ached, remembering what it was like to melt under him. To transform.
“And…I’m sorry for what I said before I left, too.” She traced a dent in the wood