like to stay a little longer.”
I smiled at her and thought about how much I hoped she would never leave, but then reminded myself that it was one little step at a time.
“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” I said. “I have plenty of spare rooms, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
“Okay,” she said as she refilled our glasses.
We spent time around the fire talking about all of the important things that we should have talked about a long time before now. We talked about our dreams and fears, our passions and goals, and all of the little and eclectic things in life that we found odd and interesting. I even let Brooke convince me to take out my guitar, which I only kept here, and play for her. I thought she was surprised when she heard that I actually could play with some proficiency. I was so drawn to her as we sat together by the firelight and talked and laughed and stared up at the moon. But this time, I wouldn’t let my desire for her ruin anything.
As much as I wanted to touch her and hold her, I wanted to be able to keep her and have her choose to return to me more than the pleasures of just one night. Because the longer I’d had to go without her, the more I had realized that I wanted to be with her every night. Whatever we had been before as a dating couple before we broke up, was no longer enough for me.
I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms every night and wake up with her still there. I wanted to hear about all of her thoughts and ideas, even the ones that she thought didn’t matter. I never again wanted to go through a period of time where we didn’t talk, or that I took for granted that she would just be there waiting for me to get home like a puppy. I learned and grew from the sad excuse for a man that I was. I knew now that I wanted her to come with me everything, not just wait for me to return.
If I thought that telling her how sorry I was a million more times would help, then I would do it gladly. But I knew that wouldn’t be enough. Brooke needed something more; she needed to see that I meant it, not just hear my words. She needed me to show her what Max had been trying to tell me right from the start. I knew what he meant now, and I knew that Brooke needed and deserved to have that from me; I just wasn’t sure how to show it to her yet.
12
Chapter Eight (Brooke)
It wasn’t the bourbon, or the fire, or the starry sky that were making me feel so smitten with Tim again. Maybe it was a million things all together, or maybe it was just the simple fact that I felt like I knew him now and that he really wanted to know me. I watched as he held himself back with such restraint tonight, even though I could see the passion burning in his eyes as ferociously, if not more so than the flames in the fire.
His eyes seemed to change from a deep brown to a more orangish-amber depending on which way the shadows fell. I wanted him so badly that I felt like the fire was inside of me, threatening to burn me up from the inside out. But I fought against myself, my head and heart in a war over which reality to believe in. I wanted to choose a reality in which I was with Tim. I wanted to believe that he was this man, the one who played his guitar on the side of the mountain, and not the man who was nearly passed-out drunk in the back of a limo with girls on his lap.
If I did this, if I trusted him again, and he broke that trust, I would never be able to forgive him again. I would never be able to return to the job that I just got back. And it would taint my trust toward any man I was ever with in the future. That was a lot riding on whether or not I made a wise decision here tonight. I already felt myself falling. I already knew which way this was going to go because I wanted it to