Page 82 of A World Without You
Maybe it was the universe’s sick way of teaching me a lesson and reminding me my selfish desires sabotaged my one chance at true love.
“If it’s easier...we can just pretend we never were. I can do that. You blocked me out of your life for the last five years—I couldn’t even stalk you when I wanted to...” I offer a smile. He doesn’t smile back.
Instead, he responds, “It would be easier if I never saw you again.”
My eyes fall closed. It all makes sense. He shut me out so he could move on. So he could love again. I never did. I let him linger in my mind like a possibility.
“I just need you to know that I did love you.” It’s true. Each word. I made my choice, I know that. I’m not trying to pretend none of this is my fault but he needs to know—I want him to know I did love him and it wasn’t all for naught. Colin stares at me for what feels like an eternity. Each second pulses with pain.
“I would have moved the earth for you,” he says, his voice steady even as his jaw pulses.
“But not drive two hours to pick me up?” I bite back and Colin scowls. “I messed it up, I know. But I did love you, and maybe a part of me never stopped.”
His cheeks flame as a hint of emotion flashes in his eyes. “And I’m still too angry with you to care.”
I suck in a cold breath through my teeth, wincing as I do.
“Let me go, Olivia. I need you to let me go.” His voice quakes, and I wonder if a part of him will regret this down the road, even if I know it’s not up to me to make him realize it.
I wait for his chin to stop trembling, but it doesn’t, so I nod. “Just know, if there’s really a world where I get to love you better and love you longer, I want you to know I will. I want you to know I’ll get it right that time.”
His chest releases with an aching breath. His gaze dances around the cold concrete in front of us, his expression pained. He hesitates, stands, and says, “I want to want the best for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m trying to forgive you.”
“I appreciate that, too.” I stand from the bench, my unfinished eggnog latte long-cold as it rests on the pavement. He takes my hand in his. His hands are strong, warm, and familiar, yet I don’t feel this longing for him to touch me anywhere else. There’s just genuine respect coursing between us. This was an overdue conversation telling me this is an expired love.
“You became a monster to me, and now that I’m seeing you again, I’m just thankful you’re still you.”
Fresh tears tickle my lashes, but I don’t cry. “And you’re still you.”
He squeezes my hand twice before retreating. As he walks away, I wonder if tonight, when I close my eyes to sleep, I’ll see him in my dreams, or if this was our final goodbye.
EIGHTEEN
