Page 74 of Second Tide's the Charm
Wanting to fan myself from how effortlessly sexy he is, I shake my head. “Except you didn’t. I was super curious, but mostly confused.” I look away, into the twilight sky. “I really thought you didn’t want me here.”
“I didn’t.” His voice is a soft rumble, but my body tenses at his words. “At least, my head didn’t. My heart is a whole different story.” I know exactly what he means. The past three years are evidence of my heart’s stubborn refusal to give over to my head. “But as for the boat, I named it back when I thought we might still have a chance. I thought maybe you’d see it and...” He breaks off. “I guess it was my way of hoping you’d come back to me without me having to say the words. Cowardly.”
“Or a really romantic gesture,” I counter.
“You hate romance.”
I take a moment to consider this. “Not true. I just don’t need it.”
“No one needs it. But some of us want it,” he says quietly, and my heart breaks at what he’s saying. I’ve never been interested in flowers or chocolate, but Adrian used to love when I’d surprise him by having his favorite takeout ordered when he came to visit, and I remember the joy he’d get shaking the presents on his birthday. Toward the end of our relationship, I was so focused on my own feelings that I stopped considering his.
“I shouldn’t have expected you to come when I was the one having second thoughts,” I say. “I asked for space. If you would’ve come, we probably would’ve argued. Might’ve made things worse.”
“Worse than three years of silence?” He shakes his head at the impossibility. “I should’ve come. But honestly, I was worried you didn’t want to see me, and scared to find out for sure.”
“I always want to see you. And I think that’s why I didn’t ask. I was terrified if you came I’d just throw myself into your arms.”
“Why didn’t you want that?” He sounds hurt, and no wonder. His arms are the perfect refuge, solid and sure, and I’ve wasted far too much time not being in them.
I tuck my legs up under myself. “Because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I was worried how I felt about you would lead me to do something foolish, like my parents.”
“But they’re happy, Hope.” He walks around and takes a seat on the edge of his chair, legs extended in front of him. “Their careers might not be as out-of-the-ordinary as ours, but they provided for all your needs, gave you a loving home. They’re some of the happiest people I’ve ever met. You think they should’ve risked their chance at the life they wanted just for a couple degrees they weren’t that interested in in the first place?”
Put that way, my fears sound ridiculous. Love didn’t impede their dreams, itwastheir dream. “But it was never my dream,” I say aloud. “I never dreamed of growing old with someone, not until I met you.”
He tips forward, dark eyes glinting in the twilight. “You said ‘not until.’ Does that mean...”
“You know I wanted that, Adrian.” I gulp. “I told you, so many times.”
“But when it came time to make that a reality, you left the East Coast. You left yourcareer, Hope. To be rid of me?”
“You didn’t fit into how I’d always imagined my future.” He of all people should know the sanctity of plans. “I wanted to keep my life tidy and compartmentalized so I could keep powering on toward my dreams, but meeting you expanded my definition of happiness.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not. It’s what kept us together for five years, despite my fear of ending up like my parents.” I don’t want to hurt him, but if I can’t make him understand, helpmyselfunderstand, we don’t have a chance. “Moving in with you felt like our lives would be entwined in a way that would be too hard to untangle if I wanted another path. But the truth is, that was just on the outside. Inside, my heart was already tangled up with yours.”
I raise my eyes and find him leaning forward, attentive. Like he wants to hear, to listen. To understand. “I spent the last few years trying to untangle that knot, to get over you, only to come down here and realize I don’t want to.” Twisting the pendant on the chain, I say, “I don’t want to be free of these feelings for you.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and the weight of what I’ve confessed settles heavy on my heart, knowing he might not feel the same.
“Someday,” he says, and I wait, holding my breath. “Not now, but someday, I want to share a home with my wife.” The word doesn’t sound possessive from his lips, it sounds cherished. Loved. “And I value my own happiness too much to try this again, if that’s not what you want.”
His honesty, his ability to name his needs, after all this time, is exactly what I crave. To know that we’re both safe in this moment to be honest. To give each other’s feelings the consideration they deserve without lessening our own.
And I want to gift him honesty, the truth I’ve kept bottled up tight. “I would’ve been so much happier these past few years if I hadn’t tried to convince myself I didn’t want that same thing. With you.”
He looks up, sharply, and I find the courage to stand up and go to him, crouching down so that we’re face-to-face in the moonlight. “I punished myself, put my dreams on hold, just to prove I would’ve let you down. But you never tried to put borders on my dreams, all you’ve ever asked is to be a part of them. And now I’m not afraid to embrace that.”
I want to take his hands in mine, but not yet. Not until I know for sure. “I’m sorry for not owning up to how I felt. For not trying to work through things. But I’m here now, not just for my career, but for us. I want a full life with you, all of it.”
The barest of spaces exists between our lips. One movement and we’d be kissing. Every part of me—the scared part, the wounded part, the confident part, the yearning and hungry and needy parts—all of me wants to be with this man, to believe that things will be different this time.
Taking my hands in his, he leans in, and presses his lips to mine. Our mouths move against one another, giving and taking, and I lose myself in his touch. The kiss is pure tenderness and trust. Both of us know the stakes. Past, present, future, we’re trusting each other with our hearts, our hopes, our dreams.
He cups my face with his palms, thumbs skating along my skin. His touch is gentle, firm, coaxing...everything I’ve missed and everything I’ve wanted. His kisses are a promise. We have time, his pace says. We have each other, my kisses reply. The stars come out, moon rising, and we’re still here. Together.
twenty-nine
