She took a step toward him, the brush snapping beneath her feet, and she grabbed his pockets and pulled him to her. He looked down at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, pushing herself onto her tiptoes. His face was only inches from hers, his eyes unblinking, his expression still. Her heart was beating so wildly that she was sure he could feel it against his chest. She couldn’t believe she’d pushed away her feelings for so long.
Libby closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. She could taste his salty, sunburned lips, feel the softness of them against hers, the scratch of stubble making contact with her skin. She ran her nails lightly through the short hair at his hairline and down his neck, as she recalled what it felt like to drag her fingertips along his bare chest. His spicy scent mixed with the lotion he always wore to keep the sun off him—it made her lightheaded. There was nothing better than this feeling. She wanted to have it forever and never give it up. They fit perfectly together. All the overthinking and rationalizing she’d done meant nothing in this moment because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the person she wanted to be with.
Then, just as a plate shatters the minute it hits a tile floor—it was that fast—crash, he pulled away from her, her thoughts like pieces of pottery scattering out in broken bits.
He turned toward the woods for a moment before facing her as she scrambled to pull herself together, to make sense of what was happening. Pete’s face was serious, preoccupied. The sound of the bay barely made its way through the trees. She hadn’t noticed it before. It was the only sound between them as she waited for an explanation even though she didn’t want to hear it.
She watched his face, suddenly realizing how overconfident she’d been. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had dried out as she waited the excruciatingly long time that it took him to offer a reason for not kissing her back. She’d been so busy thinking about what she wanted, that she didn’t consider what he wanted. Or didn’t want.
“Libby, I’m worried that you’ve misunderstood why I’ve brought you here. I wanted to show you this bench to let you know how much I value what we had together, the memories we made so long ago. They’ve stayed with me.”
He took a step closer but maintained enough distance to unnerve her. She didn’t want to be that far away from him anymore. She wanted to hold on to him, have his arms around her. She could feel the ache in her throat and the distress moving through her body like a heat wave.
“I understand that, for whatever reason, New York is where you need to be, just like I need to be here.” Libby took in a slow, conscious breath to keep herself together. Her breath wanted to come in uneven heaves but she wouldn’t allow it. “I’m happy you came back,” he said. “It gave us a chance to set things straight. Now I can say goodbye with no hard feelings, and I’m glad for that.”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Her chest felt icy, hollow, as if she couldn’t get a breath without falling over into a coughing fit. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She was so confused by what she knew now that she wanted. It wasn’t what her mother had always said she’d want. It was so much better. But she couldn’t have it. Pete didn’t want her to stay. She’d blown it, again. She wanted to let herself cry, to plead with him, but she knew better than to do that. He didn’t want her.
Suddenly, the things that she’d worked so hard to achieve all came tumbling down around her as she realized that she’d put them all above everyone else in her life. She felt silly now, small. Did she really think she could just waltz in and throw her arms around Pete and expect him to fall at her feet? He had his own life now, and it didn’t include her. End of story. She didn’t know how to live with that. How could she go on with her daily life knowing that he was The One, and she’d ruined it?
How could she think that she could reject everything about the choices he was making in life, and then come back and expect him to want her on her terms? She was starting to realize the audaciousness of that kiss, and the more she thought about it, the more she grasped how arrogant she’d been. No wonder he didn’t want her. What she’d done just now—practically throwing herself at him with no regard to his wishes—was almost worse than the way she’d left in the first place. She felt an angry throb well up behind her eyes as the mortification set in.
She watched him for a reaction but there were no tears hiding in his eyes, no contemplation anymore. He’d made his choice. He wasn’t waiting around. Maybe he never was. All of the troubles she’d had recently didn’t even compare to this. This hurt. It hurt more than anything she’d experienced.