Page 129 of A Little Crush
“Yeah, but what if?—”
“You know you’re trying to do the same thing my mom did when she found out about me, right?” I ask. “My birth mom? Eleanor? She approached my dad after telling him about my existence. Then, my mom, Ashlyn, who was my dad’s girlfriend at the time, tried to play the martyr. Tried to sacrifice her happiness for the well-being of my dad and me. But what she didn't understand, or what took her a while to understand,” I clarify, “is that she was actually sacrificing my dad’s happiness, too, and mine. Because a life without one of the women who raised me, someone I callMom, it’s…” I hesitate, taking a second to consider what my childhood would’ve looked like without Ashlyn in the picture, and a burn hits my eyes. “Damn, Rore. I can’t even imagine how much I would’ve missed out on without her. I wouldn’t have Griff or Dylan. I wouldn’t have been able to travel to London with my mom. I wouldn’t have had you.” The realization hits harder than I expect, and I lean in, kissing her softly. “If my dad had caved to either of my moms’ requests. If he had chosen to break it off with Ashlyn and marry Eleanor, I wouldn’t have had you. Not when you were born. And not now.” I kiss her again. “So, don’t. Okay? Don’t question my feelings or my decision. If you decide you don’t want to be with me, then do it for you. Don’t do it for anyone else, all right?”
I start to drop my hands from the sides of her face, but she reaches up, grasping my wrists and keeping me in place.
“I do,” she whispers. “I do want to be with you.”
My pulse stalls as I take her in. Vulnerable and hesitant and so damn fragile, I want to scoop her up and protect her. From the world. My ex. Everything. As long as we’re together. “Promise?” I rasp.
She nods. “More than you’ll ever know, Jaxon Thorne.”
Relief washes over me, and I press my forehead to hers, praying she can sense my sincerity the same way I can feel hers. “Good. Because I want to be with you, too.”
She hesitates, as if letting my confession ruminate, testing to see whether or not she buys it.
“I mean it, Rore,” I push.
“I believe you,” she whispers. Lifting her chin, she kisses me softly, then lets out a slow breath. “Can I ask you something, though?”
“Anything.”
“I know it’s not any of my business, but…what happened? Between you and her?”
Wrinkles crease my forehead as I consider her question. “You already know she cheated.”
“I mean before that,” she clarifies. “You had to have loved her to propose, Jaxon. I guess I just…I don’t get it. She’s…”
“The worst?” I offer.
A quiet, almost sad laugh escapes her as she lifts a shoulder. “If you always thought that, you wouldn’t have married her.”
Unease fills my gut. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a hundred times, if not more. Why did I marry Iris? The longer we were together, the clearer it became that whatever we felt for each other wasn’t love, more of a convolution of obligation and complacency. She was gorgeous. Independent. She didn’t need me the way other women did, and at the time, I was grateful. Grateful I could focus on work and meeting my own unrealistic standards both on and off the ice. Grateful I didn’t have to shield calls or worry about offending her if I stayed late at work to watch a few more tapes. What I didn’t understand was that this was the problem. This was the part where I fucked up. Because if you love someone, you want to be with them. You want to skip work and stay in bed. You want to call and let them know you're on your way because you’ve been counting down the minutes to when you’ll see them again. When you can hold them. And kiss them.
Fuck, I was a terrible husband. Iris knew it, and so do I.
So, how the hell do I admit it to the woman in front of me?
“Rore…”
“Tell me. Please?”
Ignoring my shame, I tell her the truth. “I was a workaholic. I was so focused on my career that I didn’t put in the time with my wife to build a strong marriage.”
“And what about her?” Rory challenges. “Did she put in the time to build a strong marriage?”
My brows pull. “Why are you giving me an out?”
“Because you deserve it, and I want the truth.” That same mixture of vulnerability and hesitancy shines in her pretty blue eyes, only this time, there’s understanding, too, though I’m not sure I deserve it. “You’re a little too good at taking responsibility, Jaxon.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I mutter. “That she wasn’t always like this?” I scrub my hand over my face. “I don’t know if it’s true. I look back and…I don’t know. She was there. And we’d been together for so long that people started asking when I was going to propose, and on paper, it made sense. Taking things to the next level.” I frown. “I still remember my wedding day. Seeing her walk down the aisle toward me. And I was confused. Why I didn’t feel…lighter. Instead, all I felt was anxious. Like I was making a mistake. But the thing is, I didn’t know what other choice there was.” Blinking away the memory, I sigh. “Until I saw you again. We talked, and I…I felt it. The connection I’d been missing. The connection I never felt with any of the girls I’d dated before meeting Iris, let alone Iris herself.” I pause, lost in the realization. “I didn’t want to believe it, Rore. Didn’t want to think about all the wasted time. But I can’t regret marrying Iris,” I add. “Without her, I wouldn’t have Pops, and…without her, I’m not sure I’d have you, either.” A wrinkle forms between my brows. “I think you’ve always been my endgame, Rory Buchanan. And I’m sorry if that scares you, but?—”
“It doesn’t.” She slams her mouth against mine, tangling her fingers along the hair at my nape and kissing me with every piece of her. Every fucking ounce. And there it is. The light, heady feeling I’d never experienced before. The one I always wanted but didn’t think was out there. Not for me.
When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against mine, letting our breath mingle as we each search for oxygen.
“I think I love you, Rory Buchanan,” I rasp. “Think I’ve always loved you. First, it was platonic, and now…now it’s very different, and I know it’s taken me a while to wrap my head around the shift, but…I love you, Rory.”
Her lashes flutter. “You have no idea how many nightsI’ve spent thinking about those three words, and what it would be like to hear you say them.”
