Page 45 of Him Too
And I wasn’t giving that up.
twenty eight-Oak
The rain wept down the floor-to-ceiling windows of the restaurant, smearing the world into a watercolor of gray. I watched it, a glass of whiskey untouched in front of me. The sound of it was a hollow echo, reminding me of everything I’d lost and the nothingness that was left.
I was waiting for Jordin. We had been separated officially for seven months. I was suddenly seeing her everywhere with him—that singer—but she still hadn’t blocked my messages. Her lawyer had stopped calling about the divorce. I was going out of my mind because I couldn’t figure out her angle. Was she trying to torture me? To push me into being the violent, volatile Oak she said she hated?
I didn’t know.
I wasn’t that man anymore—or at least, I was trying not to be.
I picked up the glass I’d been avoiding and drank it down in one gulp. The whiskey was a familiar burn, a punishment I deserved.
The door to the restaurant opened, and even before I turned, I knew it was her. The air in the room stilled and shifted, charged with her presence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum for a song she no longer wanted to hear.
Jordin.
She looked… whole. Healthy and strong in a way that felt like a personal reproach. Her skin glowed, and her hair waslonger, tied back in a simple but elegant way that made my chest ache. She wore a bodysuit paired with a flowing white skirt that moved like a ghost as she walked. But it was her eyes that undid me. They held a light I hadn’t seen in years—a light I had extinguished.
It wasn’t me who put that light back in her eyes. It was him.
That fucking singer. He was the reason she was blooming in a life I wasn't part of. The realization was a physical blow, a sharp, cracking pain behind my sternum. I took a steadying breath as she walked toward me. I stood, pulling out her chair, the gesture feeling like a relic from a dead civilization.
She hesitated for a moment, then sat down. Her scent wrapped around me; it was a particular kind of devastation. Our house no longer smelled like her. I wanted to press my face into the curve of her neck and breathe until I memorized her all over again.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said, my voice sandpaper rough.
She nodded, her expression a placid lake, giving nothing away. “You said it was important.”
“It is.” I sat down across from her, my gaze drinking in the familiar lines of her face. She didn’t look like she wanted to run—that small mercy felt like a lifeline.
“You want to order?” I asked.
She shook her head, a single, definitive motion.
I gestured toward the rain outside. “This reminds me of Anse Source d’Argent,” I said, the memory soft on my tongue. “That boat ride we took to that little island. Remember?”
Her eyes softened, the ice thawing just at the edges. “I remember,” she said, and for a second, we were there again.
I wanted to reach across the table and cover her hand with mine, to feel that familiar warmth one more time and let itsear my skin. But I kept my hands to myself, fists clenched into weapons under the table, fighting the old instincts.
“The boat was supposed to come back for us after lunch,” I continued, a ghost of a smile on my lips. “But then the storm hit. We were stranded in nothing but those bathing suits and that little picnic blanket. We made love in the rain, while the storm crashed all around us. Then we slept so close we were breathing each other’s air.”
Her lips twitched into a small, bittersweet smile. It was a knife to my heart. “That was a long time ago,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost lost to the rain.
“It was the best two days of my life,” I admitted, the truth laid bare between us. “I had you all to myself.”
Her smile faded, and she looked down at her hands, shutting me out. “Why are you in Miami? Why did you call me here, Oak?”
I leaned forward, my forearms heavy on the table. “Because I needed to see you. I needed to tell you that I’m sorry, Jordin. For everything.”
Her jaw tightened. “You already told me this in your thousand messages.”
“I know,” I said, my voice fraying at the edges. “But I needed to say it to your face. I needed you to see that I mean it. I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from. But I need you to understand. I wasn’t enough for you. I knew it back then, and instead of trying to be better, I set us on fire. I hurt you because I was a coward, terrified you’d see how small I was and leave me anyway.”
Her eyes finally lifted to meet mine, and in their depths, I saw the wreckage I’d caused.
“I’m sorry, Jordin,” I continued, the words scraping my throat raw. “I’m sorry for being selfish and weak and for trying to make my pain your fault. That day at mediation… that wasn’t theman I wanted to be. That wasn’t the man you deserved. I don’t want to be that man anymore. I want to be better—for you. For us. I want to be the man you can trust, the man who never gives you a reason to doubt how much he loves you.”
