it up and threw it as well. It fluttered through the air and landed, draped over his head. “You’re a spineless jerk. And the worst epiphany,” she whispered. “That I really am difficult to love.”
He removed her dress from his face. “I’m all that and a whole lot of other colorful and unforgivable things. And you have every right to walk out that door and never give me a second thought. But I want to make sure that you know you were wrong about one thing.”
“Really? You’re going to point out that I’m wrong? I understand why you were mad. Had the roles been reversed, I’d be mad too, but I would have at least given you the chance to explain. What you did, that went beyond a mistake. It was intentional and purposeful and broke my heart, Emmitt. You broke my heart.”
Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she crossed her arms.
“It was all those things, and also the biggest regret of my life.” He handed her dress back, and she slipped it on. “But I am going to point out that one of your epiphanies was incorrect.” He took a step closer. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Getting out of my own way was the problem. You are everything that is right and good, and I was so lucky to experience being with you for even a moment. If you give me another chance, I’ll prove to you just how easy you are to love.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, when—dear Lord—she wanted so badly to believe everything he was saying. But she was afraid to open herself up to that kind of pain again.
FOOL ME THRICE wasn’t a T-shirt she wanted to own.
“Then I’m going to have to trust you,” he whispered, closing the gap between them. “You once told me that if you love someone, you have to trust them. I love you, Anh, so damn much, and I’m putting my trust in you, believing that you meant every word you wrote.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out her Dear Diary sticky note collection. Annie stopped breathing. When she’d started that note it was with the idea of giving it to him, but the agonized words that she’d poured onto those sticky notes were her raw and unfiltered thoughts and fears, things about herself that she had a hard time admitting. It was everything she hated about herself in fifteen three-by-three notes. She’d never intended for anyone to read them.
Especially not him. And not with her in the room.
“You weren’t supposed to see that. It’s a work in progress.” She reached for the notes, and he lifted them over his head. “I’ll say whatever you want me to say, just please give them back.”
“Did you mean what you wrote?”
“Please, Emmitt, give them back,” she cried, her chest collapsing in on itself.
“As soon as you answer my question, because I read all fifteen notes, front and back, and I need to know if you meant it.”
If she thought she’d reached her lowest point the other day, it was nothing compared to the humiliation and pain she felt now, burning so cold that her body felt as if it would crack into a million pieces.
“Yes,” she said, sitting on the end of the bed.
He knelt in front of her. “Do you still mean it?”
She lifted her head so that he could see all the tears and embarrassment and pain. Everything she was feeling, stripped naked for him to see. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.” This time when he went to wipe away her tears, she let him. “Just the truth.”
“Yes, I meant every word and I still do,” she whispered.
“Even this part?” He flipped to the last note and pointed to the last line.
“Even that part.”
He took her hand in his and placed something in her palm. “Then I have a note for you. I didn’t have access to any sticky notes, so I used this.”
With trembling hand, and a terrified heart, she took the note.
She was so stunned by the vastness swelling inside that she didn’t realize he had pulled her onto his lap. Then he cupped her face between his hands and lifted her gaze to his. “I love you, Anh Nhi Walsh, and wherever you are is where I want to be. I don’t want to be some chapter or footnote in your story. I want to be in every part of your story that you allow.”
“I came to Rome