the fallout. When I found out Cleo was pregnant, I ran from you and lied because I was too scared to find out how you’d react to the truth. I thought it would be easier if you believed I never cared at all.” Blake’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I told myself it was because I wanted to give you a clean break, but in reality, I was a selfish bastard who didn’t want to complicate things for myself.”
“After we lost the baby, I could’ve reached out to you. You were all I ever thought about. Every single fucking night. But I was in such a dark place, and even after I crawled out of that pit, I felt so guilty about what I did—or what I thought I did. I didn’t deserve you, and I didn’t want to upend your life again after so many years. Then you fell into my lap again like an angel from the heavens, and I thought, this is it. This is a sign we’re meant to give this another chance. And we did—you did, even though you didn’t have to. But once again, when the going got tough, I pushed you away and ran, because I didn’t want you to see what a twisted, fucked-up mess I really am inside. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but really, I didn’t trust you enough to believe you’d stay once you found out what kind of person I really am, and I am so freaking sorry. You trusted me, and I didn’t trust you. So I let you go.”
Blake’s voice thickened. “But here’s what I realized. I’m tired of running. I know it’s hard to believe, given my history. That’s why I waited for you all those months, and I’ll continue to wait for as long as it takes. You need time, I get that. But these letters…I wanted you to see the real me. To give you the choice I should’ve given you a long time ago. You can stay or you can leave, but know this: if you aren’t by my side, it doesn’t matter how bright the sun shines. I’d rather live in eternal darkness with you than live in eternal sunshine without you. So here I am, asking you to give me another chance. This time, it’s all of me. Every scar, every flaw, every fucked-up thought and every dream I’ve ever had. It’s yours. I don’t want to run anymore, but unless you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me—I will chase you to the ends of the earth until the sun fucking explodes. You are it, Farrah Lin. You always have been. You always will be.”
The paper fluttered from Farrah’s hand to the floor. She closed the distance between them until she stood so close Blake could count each individual eyelash and see the teeny-tiny mole above her upper lip. He breathed her in, drunk on her scent, even as his nerves raced full speed down his spine.
“You’re not a terrible person, Blake,” she whispered, cupping his face with one hand. “Those dark, selfish thoughts you have? We all have them. It doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human.”
Blake wanted to argue. A sick part of him wanted to prove he was a terrible person, that he didn’t deserve any of the good things in his life. But he was coming to the realization that that part of himself was his own guilt and insecurities talking, and that in order to move on, he had to forgive the person who needed it most: himself.
Farrah took a tiny step back, and it was all he could do not to yank her close again.
She didn’t break their gaze as she clasped the locket he gave her around her neck.
“You know a lot of things about me, Blake Ryan, but here’s what you don’t know. I never fell out of love with you, not even after Shanghai. I told myself I did, but it was a lie. This is my truth: you are my One Big Love, my fairytale, my Hollywood romance. I want all of you, the same way you want all of me. Every scar, every smile, every dream and nightmare. I’ve been falling all this time; I just needed you to stop running long enough to catch me. Also…” Farrah leaned in, her breath tickling his lips. “I think darkness is beautiful. And I fucking love sunsets.”