Page 57 of One Pucking Heart

“You had me followed?” The vitriol I want to feel for such an intrusion doesn’t come.

He twists and leans against the arm of the sofa, facing me. His palms turn up. “What other choice did I have, Elena? You’ve been skillfully avoiding me for a week. You break up with me via a note card after skipping out on me in Seattle. I’m owed a conversation, at least.”

My chin dips. “I know.”

“So why? Why are you doing this? Why are you hiding from me?”

I circle my head around, my stiff neck cracks, and I breathe in through my nose. “Well, the easier question to answer is because I wanted to give us both time to process the inevitable. I thought with some time and distance, the breakup would be easier to accept.”

He furrows his brows. “Why are we breaking up? We were happy.”

“Yeah, and maybe we would’ve been happy together for a little while, but in the long run, you and I won’t work. I’ve told you that from the beginning. We’re too different. We’re at completely separate places in our lives. You know, I wanted to talk to you in Seattle, but I saw you at the bar with your teammates and fans, and it made it even more clear that we’re not in the same space. I’m a lot older than you and as a result in a different stage in my life. Before I came, you were the life of the party, the team whore.”

“Elena,” he groans, annoyed.

“Look. I’m not saying that is a bad thing. I’m saying that you changed so much to be with me for a few months for this fake marriage. I hated it then, but I’m certainly not going to make you change everything about yourself in the long term. Real love, the kind that lasts, is between two people who meet one another exactly where they are. We’re not in the same place.” He starts to argue, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “I know that the love we share is real. We obviously have a great connection, but those two things will only get us so far. I have no doubt that you’ll offer to change everything about yourself to be with me, but I don’t want that for you. Because being someone you’re not isn’t sustainable. Eventually, we’d crumble, and you’d resent me for stealing years of your life from you.”

“No.” His facial features harden. “You do not get to tell me who I am. Because clearly, after all our time together, you don’t have a clue. I know who I am, and that is someone who is irrevocably in love with you. The partying and sleeping around? Those were things I did but not who I am. I don’t need to stay out late at parties or sleep with countless women to be happy. I need you. Full stop.”

“You say that now—”

He cuts me off. “Because it’s true, and it will be true forever. Look, I get that you think you’re so wise because you’re older than me, but in reality, it’s the complete opposite. You are so afraid of losing control. You’ve made it your mission since you left home to be in sole control of your life. The intensity of the love we share scares you to death. That’s the thing about true love, Elena. It is scary as hell. It consumes you and leaves you vulnerable. A hell of a lot of faith is required when you’re in love with someone, and you have to trust in that person to be there for you, to protect you, to safeguard your heart because being all in is a risk. It will always be a gamble. There is no way to guarantee your partner won’t shatter your heart. Life happens. People change. People die. Love is never a hundred percent risk-free. That’s just not the way life works.”

He scoots across the sofa, closing the gap between us. He takes my hands in his. “I love you, Elena. I don’t know exactly when it happened. Part of me feels I loved you the moment I met you. I don’t care that you’re thirteen years older than me. My love for you is soul-deep. We have a connection, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I know you feel it, too. Love doesn’t have guidelines. It doesn’t care about age, race, occupation, or any other descriptor—it’s all about the connection. I’m certain that I can search for the rest of my life and I’ll never find someone who makes me feel the way that you do. If you don’t feel the same way, then I’ll be forced to accept it, but I know you do. I love you so much. Just let us be happy. It doesn’t have to be this hard.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to go to bars after a game.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Then don’t. I can stay back with you or just go and hang out with the guys without you for a little bit and then come home. That’s something we can discuss. The cool thing about marriage is the couple has the ability to talk things out and decide what’s in the best interest of everyone involved. It’s called compromise.”

“The team hasn’t stopped talking about your bye week vacation this year. What if I don’t want to go drink for a week straight in some exotic location. You’ll stay back with me, and there will be regrets.”

“Yeah, maybe some of the guys will miss me and wish I was there, but me personally, I won’t have a single regret. Here’s the thing. I did all those things—partying, sleeping around, planning extravagant bye week vacations—because that’s what I had. Now, I have you, and I’m being completely honest when I say I’d choose you over all of that a hundred times over. What don’t you understand about this? I love you. I choose you. I want you. All that”—he waves his hand in a circle between us—“was fun. But you”—he presses his palm to my chest—“are everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. Elena.”

Tears cascade down my face once more. “This is why we needed time apart. It’s hard to argue with you when you say beautiful things.”

“You mean, it’s hard to argue against the truth, and not the one you’ve concocted in your mind but the actual truth that you and I, despite all our differences, are meant for one another? And maybe we always were? That your path led you to that professor who was friends with Hootie and got you the job that led you to my hospital room that led us to get to know each other while I healed and be together when you got that letter that crushed you, which gave me the idea to get married in the first place, and through this fake marriage fall madly in love with one another? Call it kismet, destiny, fate, luck, or fortune, but the fact remains—we’re meant to be together.”

He drops his hand from my chest and takes my hand in his. He pulls it toward him and places my hand against his chest. I feel his rapidly beating heart against my palm. “I have one fucking heart, and it was destined to love you. Only you.”

I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat and nod.

“Question is.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it. “Elena, will you please not divorce me?”

I laugh through my tears and shake my head. “I won’t divorce you.”

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.” I jump toward him, throwing my arms around his neck. He falls back onto the sofa, and my face hovers over his. Not able to wait another second, I crash my lips to his.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

BECKETT

All is right in the world again. Every bit of fear or anger I held over a future without Elena has vanished with a single kiss. I knew she was stuck in her head and creating a narrative that wasn’t accurate. Everything I said to her is true. I don’t care about any of the stuff she’s worried about. My attention is singularly focused, and it’s a hundred percent locked in on her.

We kiss until my lips ache, and after a few minutes, she pulls away. “I missed you so much.” Her face hovers a breath away from mine.

“Me too. Please don’t ever leave me again.”

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