She collapsed in my arms, the top of her head tucked beneath my chin and her cheek pressed against my chest.
And then she told me if she could do it all over again, she’d have picked me first.
Not him.
I told her it wasn’t too late. She could still choose me.
She disagreed.
She said the first time you give someone your heart, it’s theirs to keep.
Forever.
But I refuse to let that deter me.
I won’t stop until she’s mine because I’m stubborn enough to believe that someday soon, she’ll be mine. Completely.
She just hasn’t realized it yet.
31
Ace
Aidy hasn’t answered my texts.
Or my calls.
It’s been two days.
I thought she needed time to cool off and that she’d be right back here, ringing my doorbell, jumping in my arms, laughing at how fucking ridiculous she looked storming out of here Sunday like some self-righteous prima donna.
Maybe I should’ve chased after her.
Maybe I should’ve explained everything . . .
But it isn’t that easy. I’ve never talked to anyone about Kerenza. About what happened. Or how it changed me from the inside out.
I’m seated in my favorite chair, sitting in a dark living room, listening to the faint symphony of city traffic outside my windows. The last two days have been gray scale and meaningless.
I miss her.
And I fucking need her.
I should’ve opened up more. I should’ve told her everything. I shouldn’t have shut her down when she asked about my brothers. I shouldn’t have changed the subject when she asked if I’d ever been in love.
So many nights, we’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, her hand on my chest and my hands tangled in her hair. She’d ramble on about anything and everything, and I’d just listen. I let her do all the opening up, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
Massaging my temples, I exhale. I’m exhausted, mentally, from thinking too much. And I’m exhausted, physically, because I’ve barely slept these past two nights.
All this time I was afraid. Afraid to open up to her and let her in because the last time I did that? The last time I bared my soul to a woman who held my heart in her teeth? It didn’t end well.
I loved Kerenza too much. Too hard. I held onto her so tight it was literally and figuratively almost the death of me. And if losing Kerenza was nearly the death of me in the most literal sense? How would it feel losing Aidy?
Like a coward, I let fear take command because I was so convinced that loving her too hard would send her packing.
But this time? In the end? I lost her anyway.
Rising from the creaking leather chair, I pull in a stale lungful of air and grab my sneakers. I’m not sure if she’s home. I’m not sure where she is or if she’ll even talk to me since she hasn’t returned my calls, but I’m sure as hell not going to sit around here feeling sorry for myself.
It’s time to tell her everything.
I’ll hold nothing back.
I’ll tell her all about my regrets.
How sorry I am.
How much she’s changed me.
How I’m not the man I used to be anymore: I’m better.
It’s all because of her.
And she needs to hear that.
And while I have her – or if I have her – I’ll also tell her how I feel about her. I’ll tell her how Saturday morning, when she crawled out of bed and kissed me goodbye, I watched through squinted eyes as she changed into her clothes, trying hard to stay quiet so I could fall back asleep as she left for work. And I’ll tell her how it was then, in that moment, I realized I was falling in love with her.
I’m not the kind of man who throws that word around lightly or who falls in and out of love at the drop of a hat. Kerenza’s the only other woman I’ve ever said those words to, and while they don’t ring true anymore as far as she’s concerned, I’ve realized it is possible to love again.
And to love just as hard as before, if not more.
Hitting the sidewalk, I jam my hands into my jeans pocket and rehearse all the things I’m going to say to Aidy when I see her.
32
Aidy
“Oh, Wren, it’s beautiful.” I lift my hands to my mouth as Wren steps out of the dressing room at Blush Bridal on Madison Avenue Friday