Page 37 of When Forever Comes

“Believe me when I say I know how bad it hurts.” There’s not an ounce of hostility in her voice; instead, the sincerity of her words shines through. “I am sorry. So sorry. I needed time to breathe and work through the emotions I thought I had buried a long time ago.”

“We could have worked them out together,” I say, attempting to conceal my frustration.

“I’m sorry, West. I never meant to hurt you. When I ran, I thought I was protecting myself from getting hurt again. The truth is, I only hurt myself.”

“And me.”

“And you. And you are the last person I wanted to hurt. I’m so sorry about that.” She looks down and her tears splash onto my floor. “That entire week was amazing, and you made me feel so… treasured. But then when we had dinner with Giselle, I overheard the waitresses talking when I went to the bathroom about how you and Giselle would be perfect together and all my insecurities came to a head. It didn’t help that she touched you every chance she got.”

A growl comes unbidden from the back of my throat. “I need to have a talk with her about that. She’s always been touchy, but I only want one woman’s hands on me.” I take Olivia’s hands in mine and rest them on my chest, hoping she feels the erratic beat of my heart. A heart that beats for her alone.

Heat sparks in Olivia’s eyes but soon vanishes. She shakes her head and her hands drop to her sides. “One of the waitresses couldn’t believe I was your date over Giselle, the retired model, especially since I was such a ‘mousy girl.’” Olivia puts "that mousy girl,” in finger quotes.

I grip both of her shoulders. The need to touch her, hold her, kiss her, is growing into a painful desperation. “Mousy? Did they really use that word? Because you’re not mousy!”

“Be serious, West. If you were honest with yourself, what would be your type?” She steps out of my hold and I hate the space separating us.

“My type?” I ask, feeling slightly unhinged. “My type is Olivia Swann. That’s it.” I slice my hands through the air, attempting to make my point.

“I’m not a type, West. I’m not any man’s type.”

“Good. You’re not supposed to be any man’s type. You’re my type.Mine.” She sucks in a sharp breath, staring at me wide-eyed. Before getting my hopes up, I ask, “Are you going to run again?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m not planning on it. I’m here to stay. Well, not here, in your penthouse, but on your island.”

“You are?”

“If that’s okay with you?”

Emotions battle within me. Apprehension, excitement, fear. When I say nothing, her face falls. She’s undoubtedly assuming the worst.

Looking at the floor, she whispers, “If it’s not, then I’ll go back to Emerald Springs and never bother you again.” Olivia looks up at me and everything inside of me tightens at the vulnerability written across every inch of her gorgeous face.

“You could never bother me, Livvy.” Her eyes sparkle when I use my old nickname for her. “This last month without you did bother me, though. I thought I came on too strong. That the dates were too much. That—"

“You thought I left you because I didn’t want you?” she asks.

“Exactly.”

“Believe me when I say I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. But I never felt like I was good enough for you.”

Anger fills me. “Why would youeverthink that?”

“That week, you exceeded any woman’s wildest dreams. And what did I give you?”

“You. You gave me you. Which is all I need in this life. And Lord willing, I’ll have you in the next life too.” I spread my arms open, trying to emphasize our surroundings. “God has given me all of this, and I thought you coming back into my life was His way of showing me who to share it with. But Livvy, you took my heart with you when you left.”

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to set you free to be with someone who doesn’t hold you back. Who matches your attractiveness, ambition, and success.” She looks at the floor and mumbles, “Someone like Giselle.”

I don’t even want to acknowledge her assumption about Giselle. “You have been my fantasy since I was fifteen years old. No one else matches me like you do. Freedom for me is with you, not without you.”

She looks back up at me. “Do you really mean that?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I take a step forward, tucking my hands into my pockets to keep myself from touching her. “Yes. With every ounce of my existence, I mean that.”

“Then when you left Emerald Springs, when you left me, why didn’t you say goodbye?” she asks and her question tears me apart.

“The same reason you didn’t when you left.”

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