Page 116 of RomeAntically Challenged
Releasing a few more shuddering breaths, she walked into the bedroom and bent over to pick up her dress.
“Those are new,” an unexpected but achingly familiar voice said from behind her.
A lump materialized in her throat as every memory they’d created in this room came rushing back. Then she turned around. The real thing was way more painful than the memory.
Emmitt stood in the doorway dressed in slacks, a wrinkled button-up, his leather bomber jacket, and aviators. He looked handsome and worldly, the quintessential photojournalist for hire. He also looked sad, as if his heart were breaking too.
Hers was pounding hard, threatening to shake apart. “Does Paisley know you’re here? She’s going to be over the moon.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said from across the room as if they were mere acquaintances.
“Oh, right. You probably want to shower first. I can, uh...” Holding her dress to her as if it had the power to keep her from breaking down, she grabbed her bag, then spun around looking for, “My shoe.” She held it up. “I just need to find the other one, and I’ll get out of your hair. There it is, under the bed.” She looked up at him and gave a hysterical laugh. “Of course it’s under the bed. Don’t mind me.”
She crouched down, her new panties and bra making a lasting memory she was sure, and retrieved the shoe. She was adding it to the pile of belongings when two big hands came into view.
“Anh,” he murmured, taking everything but the dress from her, then helping her stand. “You don’t have to leave. In fact, I’ve grown to love how you feel in my hair.”
She looked up and met his gaze, and a seed of hope that she was certain had extinguished grew warm in her belly.
“Don’t cry,” he said, as if she had control over the matter. She looked at him like an idiot.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted, then batted away his hand when he went to dry her face. “And you don’t get to come in here and wipe away my tears just because they make you uncomfortable.”
“They don’t make me uncomfortable. They break my heart.”
“Well, when you chase someone relentlessly until they give in, then charm them until the they fall for you, only to dump them via sticky note, tears happen, Emmitt,” she sniffed, building up steam. “It was a really mean note, by the way. I would say it was some of your best work if I wasn’t the subject. It evoked all kinds of emotions and epiphanies, like men suck.”
She threw her shoe at him, but he ducked. “Men are cowards.” The other shoe went flying, and he caught it. “Men are a waste of space.”
Out of shoes, she went for her handbag, which landed to the right of him, dumping all its contents on the floor.
“Men are spineless jerks.” Left with only her dress, she wadded it up and threw it as well. It fluttered through the air and landed, draped over his head. “You’re a spineless jerk. And the worst epiphany,” she whispered. “That I really am difficult to love.”
He removed her dress from his face. “I’m all that and a whole lot of other colorful and unforgivable things. And you have every right to walk out that door and never give me a second thought. But I want to make sure that you know you were wrong about one thing.”
“Really? You’re going to point out that I’m wrong? I understand why you were mad. Had the roles been reversed, I’d be mad too, but I would have at least given you the chance to explain. What you did, that went beyond a mistake. It was intentional and purposeful and broke my heart, Emmitt. You broke my heart.”
Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she crossed her arms.
“It was all those things, and also the biggest regret of my life.” He handed her dress back, and she slipped it on. “But I am going to point out that one of your epiphanies was incorrect.” He took a step closer. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Getting out of my own way was the problem. You are everything that is right and good, and I was so lucky to experience being with you for even a moment. If you give me another chance, I’ll prove to you just how easy you are to love.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, when—dear Lord—she wanted so badly to believe everything he was saying. But she was afraid to open herself up to that kind of pain again.
FOOL ME THRICEwasn’t a T-shirt she wanted to own.
“Then I’m going to have to trust you,” he whispered, closing the gap between them. “You once told me that if you love someone, you have to trust them. I love you, Anh, so damn much, and I’m putting my trust in you, believing that you meant every word you wrote.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out her Dear Diary sticky note collection. Annie stopped breathing. When she’d started that note it was with the idea of giving it to him, but the agonized words that she’d poured onto those sticky notes were her raw and unfiltered thoughts and fears, things about herself that she had a hard time admitting. It was everything she hated about herself in fifteen three-by-three notes. She’d never intended for anyone to read them.
Especially not him. And not with her in the room.
“You weren’t supposed to see that. It’s a work in progress.” She reached for the notes, and he lifted them over his head. “I’ll say whatever you want me to say, just please give them back.”
“Did you mean what you wrote?”
“Please, Emmitt, give them back,” she cried, her chest collapsing in on itself.
“As soon as you answer my question, because I read all fifteen notes, front and back, and I need to know if you meant it.”
