The Pact(106)

Steph is sitting across from him, twirling her (very dirty) martini glass around between her fingers, looking bored. She’s also looking so beautiful that I feel like I’m on morphine again. How fucking surreal it is to think about how long I’ve known her, to have been inside of her, to have her tell me she loves me. At that moment I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from it.

She’s wearing ankle boots, jeans and a long-sleeved top. She has no skin showing except for her collarbone, one of my favorite places to bite and lick. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail and she barely has any make-up on. It feels good to know that she didn’t doll herself up for him, that she’s not trying to impress anyone. But the thing is, she doesn’t need to. She’s even more stunning when she’s just being herself.

She is so god damn beautiful I think I could bloody die.

But now Owen is looking over at me. Frowning. He remembers me. He hates me.

He’s about to hate me even more.

Steph turns her head and once she sees me, her jaw comes unhinged. She looks so fucking cute that I’m glad for the surprise. She doesn’t look angry either, which is a good thing.

She looks to Owen and then back to me. She seems like she’s about to panic.

I’ll make this easy for her.

I move toward them, trying to look as cool as you can look on crutches, and stop right in front of their table. “I’m sorry to interrupt the lovely evening you’re both having,” I tell them, looking between the two as they stare up at me dumbfounded. “But I have something important I need to ask Stephanie here.” I give Owen a look. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us some privacy.”

Owen dabs his napkin on his mouth and then throws it on the table. He clears his throat. “Whatever you have to say to her, you have to say it in front of me.”

Oh really? No sympathy for the cripple? I didn’t exactly plan for spectators but if I don’t roll with it, I might lose the chance. I look behind me and see James, Penny and Dan at the edge of the bar, beers in their hands and staring openly at us like we’re some performing act. I give them a wink and then turn back around.

“All right,” I say to Owen. “Stay if you must. But if you say one word, I’m going to whack this fucking crutch right in your Hobbit ears, okay?” He gulps, looking indignant but doesn’t say anything. I glance at Stephanie and can see her wheels turning. She has no idea what I’m about to do. But I know with one sentence, I can put her on the right track.

“Stephanie,” I say, squaring my body toward her. “Tomorrow is my birthday. I turn thirty-one.”

And now she knows. Surprise and fear and something I hope is a wee more positive than that all swirl in her big blue eyes. “I know,” she says softly, warily.

“Then you know that once upon a time, we made a promise to each other.” My chest feels tight but I push through it. “And I know that the promise was lost. Ruined. And it was my fault. But I can’t pretend it’s over. That it doesn’t exist. I want to know that there is still time. I want another chance to give you my heart. And of course, other things beside my heart.”

Owen makes a disgruntled sound and I jerk the crutch toward him, shooting him a deadly look. To his credit, he shuts up.

I turn back to her, stoop over as much as I can, and grab her hand. It’s so small and soft. It’s so mine.

“I did a terrible thing. The worst thing. I had your love – it was all the love in the world – and I threw it away. Because I was an idiot. Because I was scared. Because I was afraid of doing the wrong thing and being the bad guy. But then I became what I feared and I lost thing I cared about most of all. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for giving up on us and for letting go when I promised I wouldn’t. But I hope and pray that you can. That you will give me another shot. Because I’ve seen your soul, baby, and it’s real and it’s rare. And once upon a time, you were kind enough to give it to me. I want to have you again. I want what’s true.” I take in a shaky breath. “We are true. We always have been. I hope we always will be.”

I grip her hand, feeling her pulse and then, while she’s gazing at me with heartfelt eyes, I attempt to drop to one knee.

But of course, I’m on crutches and I can’t. I wobble there for a second, nearly tilting over, before Owen actually sticks his arm out to steady me. That was nice of him. Douche.

“Normally I would go on one knee,” I tell her, feeling my cheeks go hot. “But I might not ever get up again. So let’s just pretend that I am.” I reach into my ring pocket. “I can still give you this though.”