her staring at him. Stephanie stood up and tucked her phone into her back jeans pocket. She pretended as if he couldn’t see her tears or hadn’t witnessed what he had.
You love Charles.
Did you meet him before or after me?
Will you love me after him?
“You okay?” he asked, almost afraid to hear what she had to say.
Stephanie looked away. “Yes.”
“You’re lying,” he stated.
Then she sighed. “I know.”
“You can be honest with me.”
Her eyes found his. The moon gave him enough light to see the hurt and guilt in them. “I really can’t,” she replied in a small voice.
Julian stepped forward and brushed her cheeks clean of moisture. “It’s me, Stephanie. You can tell me what’s upsetting you. I’m sorry if I stepped over the line and held your hand. When you didn’t pull away, I thought… I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
She blinked quickly at him then she pulled away from his touch. “It’s not what you think.”
He let his hands fall to his side, trying to force the pain to settle into one single spot within his body. But there was no use. He felt it everywhere. “Was it real for you?”
“What?” she breathed.
“What we had in Thailand. Was it real for you?”
Julian’s heart had stilled, waiting for the moment when she’d either free him or crush him. Stephanie’s chest heaved. Each second of her silence chipped away another piece of his heart. He had waited four years for her vocal rejection. To prepare himself for the blow, he dug his hands into his jeans pocket and breathed out.
“It was real for me,” Stephanie whispered.
“Charles, stop her!” Sophie screamed.
“I loved him,” Stevie cried, looking down at the passing lights. “I really did.”
She closed her eyes and listened to the cars that drove past. The light-headedness was one she was welcoming. It stopped her from feeling. She had gone months without drinking after she had met Charles on a drunken binge. Stevie wasn’t sure how they met when she woke up in his bed, but from that morning onwards, he had been by her side.
“I didn’t mean it, Stevie. I’m sorry,” Sophie cried. “Charles, get her away from the railing, please!”
Seconds later, his fingers brushed the back of her hand. Stevie gripped the metal tightly.
“Don’t do this, Stevie. I can’t lose you,” he whispered in her ear.
Tears skimmed her cheeks.
“Don’t leave me like this. Come away with me. We’ll go to Brighton like I promised. We’ll leave right now.”
Stevie turned and wrapped her arms around him. Charles hugged her tightly, his chin resting on the top of her head.
“Do you think I’m a whore? Honestly, Charles, tell me. Am I good enough for you?” She cried into his chest, ruining the dress shirt he wore.
“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“There,” she breathed. “That’s why you have to leave because I’m not. Sophie made it loud and clear. I got knocked up by someone I barely knew, Charles. And I don’t even remember how we met.”
He held her tightly as cars rushed past them. “I love you, Stevie.”
“You can’t,” she sobbed.
I’m not worthy of love.
“But I do. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Ignore Sophie and my family. I see the beautiful person you really are and that’s all that matters.”
He wants me to be honest.
“I miscarried after I found out and that’s why I came to London.”
Julian’s baby.
My baby.
I miscarried our baby.
Charles pulled her back and looked her in the eye. Those green eyes were ones she loved.
“Stevie, one day you are going to make an incredible mother. For my birthday, I’d love it if you’d get off this bridge, come home with me, and never punish yourself for something you couldn’t prevent.”
His thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks and Stevie smiled.
“Charles.”
“Yes, Stevie.”
“I’m going to love you one day, you’ll see.”
He lovingly smiled at her and then kissed her forehead. “Don’t forget to tell me when it happens, okay?”
“Definitely.”
“Then why did you leave?” Julian’s question had her snapping back to reality.
It had been over two years since that night on the bridge. Sophie had let the truth of Stevie’s life before she had met Charles slip. It had hurt, especially when Stevie was trying to be better. Trying to live with the pain rather than mask it. Charles had been that light, and meeting his parents had made her realise that he was too pure.
“I was a teenager, Julian. What was I supposed to do? Stay and what? Talk about the fact that I lost my