He runs a hand through his hair and sighs as he takes a few steps toward me. “I’m a guy, Harlow. I’m not good with these kinds of things.”
“I’m not good at them either apparently,” I say through a disbelieving laugh and shake of my head. “I tried to fight it, Zane. I really did . . . but it happened and I . . .” I throw my hands up as tears fill my eyes.
“I care about you.” He takes a step forward, and I put my hands up to his chest so he keeps his distance.
“I know you do,” I say as he stares at me with eyes full of so much emotion and pain that it just reemphasizes the decision I made earlier. “I can’t change the things that are deep-seated in your nature, the things you’ve always believed, and I’m not going to try to.”
“If you just let me process all of this,” he says, his voice tightening in stress, but I know him processing it all isn’t going to change anything.
He either wants me or he doesn’t.
He’s either willing to take a chance or he isn’t.
“This is all my fault,” I say and change tactics.
“What do you mean by that?” His brow furrows and the tension in his shoulders set.
“I started this. I mean, I’m not sure who started this between us, but I let it go to where I swore it wouldn’t go. I joked I was just here for the sex, and in the beginning, I was. I thought it’s not a bad way to spend the two months since we were stuck together. Then things started changing and between the pretending to be a couple and the incredible sex at night, I think I started to believe it. By then it was too late for me to step back.”
Tell me you believed it too! Please! Tell me I wasn’t the only one.
Give me something to go on. Anything to tell me that I’m not insane in what I saw from you, in what I felt from you.
“Fuck, Har . . . I’m struggling here. Why does anything have to change? Why does—”
“I left the party tonight telling myself I was crazy. That I should have just shut my mouth and let things be. Maybe when we got back to LA things could be how they were in the beginning—fun and flirty. I was willing to settle for that, Zane. I was willing to shove my feelings aside and just casually date and see where things went with you. But deep down, I knew I never would’ve been happy with that. And then I was roaming the streets thinking, and I kept seeing all of these couples walking hand in hand, laughing together, enjoying each other. It hit me that I deserve that. I deserve more than this,” I say pointing to him and me. “God yes, you’ve won my heart, Zane. You’ve actually had it for some time. You’re an incredible man . . . but I deserve all of that.”
“Cinder,” he says in that low rumble of his and the damn nickname has tears springing to my eyes. I tell myself to step back when he reaches out to touch my face. I yell at myself to retreat when he frames my cheeks in his hands.
“It’s okay,” I say, not sure if that’s more for him or for me.
We stare at each other for the longest of moments. His eyes swim with the emotion I need to hear on his lips, but haven’t heard.
“Where are you going?”
“I grabbed a flight—”
“Why would—”
“You have meetings here for a few days still. You don’t need me here for those and you sure as hell don’t need me to mess up your routine. It’s for the better.”
“Let me get the jet ready—”
“It’s fine. I don’t need that. I’ll never need that.” I close my eyes for a beat and when I open them, I’ve found the resolve that was wavering. “Thank you for everything, Zane.”
He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip as he nods ever so slightly before our lips meet. It’s the most tender of kisses. The only one in my life I can truly say I’ve felt deep in my bones. And the only one I can say without doubt I never wanted to end.
I step back and try to smile through the tears before grabbing my bag and walking out the door. My heels echo, one after another, an audible testament to the fact that I’m leaving.
When my hand grasps the handle and pulls, Zane puts his hand on the door and shuts it. “Stay, Harlow. Just stay and we can talk and figure things out. I can’t make you promises but . . .”
I look at him and see everything I want, but there’s a portion of him that I know is still closed off.
That’s the part I want.
That’s the part I deserve.
I hang my head for a beat and look back up to meet those gorgeous emerald eyes I love. “Don’t ask out of reflex. Think about it. Figure it out. The first time you chased after me, it was with a pair of shoes. If you want to chase again, I need a little bit more of the fairytale or else I don’t want it at all.” I reach out and squeeze his hand and realize how daunting that must sound to a man who swears love is a fabricated emotion. “I’m not asking for it all, I just need to know that you’ll open yourself up to the chance at love. Loving someone and knowing there will never be the same thing felt in return is a miserable way to live.”