Page 94 of After Everything
"I know."
"I don't know if I can do this."
"That's okay."
"What if I can't forgive you? What if I can't move past what you did?"
"Then I'll accept that." His voice was steady. "But Emma, I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. I'm not asking you totrust me or give me another chance or make any decisions. I'm just telling you the truth. I love you. I'm staying here. And I'll wait as long as you need."
I looked at him. Really looked at him. At the man standing in his tiny office above a coffee shop, who'd turned down millions of dollars, who'd spent a year doing work that mattered, who'd learned how I took my coffee and showed up for strangers and became someone I didn't recognize.
Someone better.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"Me too."
"If we do this—if I let you try—you have to understand. It's slow. On my terms. And if you ever, ever make me regret this?—"
"I won't." His voice was fierce. "Emma, I swear to you, I won't."
"You can't promise that."
"You're right. I can't." He reached up slowly, telegraphing the movement, and cupped my face in his hands. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you. Starting right now. Startingwith this moment. And every moment after."
I looked into his eyes. Saw the fear and the hope and the absolute certainty there.
And I made a choice.
"Okay," I breathed.
"Okay?"
"Okay. We can try. Slow. Careful. One day at a time. But—" I took a shaky breath. "We can try."
The smile that broke across his face was like sunrise.
And then I kissed him.
It wasn't soft or tentative. It was three years of grief and rage and loss and healing, all compressed into one desperate, claiming kiss. His hands were in my hair, mine fisted in his shirt, and for the first time in three years I let myself feel everything I'd been holding back.
Want. Need. Hope.
Terrifying, impossible hope.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, his hands still cradling my face like I was something precious.
"I love you," he said again. Quieter this time. Just for me.
I closed my eyes. "I'm not ready to say it back."
"I know."
"I might not be ready for a long time."
"That's okay."
"But I want to try. I want to see if we can—" I stopped. Opened my eyes. "I want to see if the person you are now and the person I am now can build something better than what we had before."
