I blinked. "God, what happened to you?"
He reached a hand up and rubbed his bruised jaw. The skin around one eye was tinged red, and he had a red cut along his cheekbone.
"Fionn and I had a talk," he said, one side of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
Ah. Fionn. I thought I understood. But then his smile faded and the pain in his expression broke my heart a little.
I shifted on my feet. "How'd you know where I was?" I asked.
"I didn't. I went to Daisy's first and didn't see your car. I came here next . . . Somehow I thought it might be where you'd go. Or maybe I just hoped."
"Oh." My breath hitched causing the word to break.
He paused, his eyes beseeching me, asking me . . . something. I waited, my pulse quickening. "Lydia, I . . ." He shook his head, a few snowflakes still sticking to his hair-the white crystals a striking contrast to the black strands. His expression was suddenly very raw. "I'm not very good at unrehearsed speeches. I . . ." He furrowed his brow, obviously struggling. I worked not to hold my breath as I waited, somehow knowing it was important to give him the time he needed to get his words right. "Well, Fionn says I have a way of complicating things that don't need to be complicated . . ." His eyes met mine. "Maybe he's right, and I think that if any place should inspire us to speak the simple truth, it's this place." I blinked back tears. "And so I'm just going to tell you what I should have told you at some party or another last year before I put my ridiculous revenge plan into action."
He walked closer, his pale eyes filled with what I thought was . . . fear. He was scared, but he was here. He was here. Oh Brogan.
He reached his hand out. My eyes wandered down to it. It was trembling and the sight filled me with tenderness. I took his hand in mine, the contact making me want to weep. He felt warm and solid and he gripped me as if he was never going to let me go. Oh please don't let me go. Not again. Please be here to stay.
"Lydia, it's so nice to see you after all these years. You look . . . God, you look even more beautiful than in my dreams. And I've dreamt about you so often. It scares me because each time I do, I wake up feeling hungry in that way I promised myself I'd never feel hungry again. Only this hunger can only be satisfied by you, and I'm . . . I'm not sure what to do about that." He ran his tongue over his front teeth, his eyes clear, blue pools of vulnerability, and I sucked in a shaky breath. "So I'm hoping you might have some ideas better than my own." I sniffled, tears pricking my eyes. He gazed at me so seriously, his expression so deeply pained. And I wanted to take him in my arms, but I didn't. "Before you say anything, you should know that, since I saw you last, I've done some things I'm not proud of, survived in ways that still bring me shame. But . . . but I'm hoping, God I'm hoping so hard that you can find it in your heart to understand and maybe help me forgive myself, because I've never been very good at that. But above anything, what I'm hoping is that we can get to know each other again and forgive each other for the things we did, both intentionally and unintentionally. Because I'd really like to take you somewhere warm where I can buy you a meal and then bring you back to my house and make love to you the way I wish I'd known how to do the first time."
I let out a small, sniffle-laden laugh and took a step closer to him, my heart swelling with love. "That would have been a lot to take in," I said, my smile soggy as a tear rolled down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.
I pressed my lips together so they wouldn't begin trembling. "What about Courtney?" I finally whispered, my heart squeezing as I swallowed, bracing myself. Whatever he told me, I was going to try my best to understand.
"Courtney's gone back to New York City to her own life. I only . . . God, Fionn's right, I'm an eejit." He released a loud whoosh of air. "She was lying to me. She was manipulating me, and I let her. Partly because of my own guilt. But partly because as long as Courtney was around, it meant denying myself the option of begging you for forgiveness. I thought it'd make it easier on you and on me. I didn't want you to forgive me, and I was so scared I was going to beg you to do it anyway, because I wanted you back so damned badly. I haven't touched her, Lydia. She kissed me twice, and I let her, and I'm sorry about that, not only to you, but to myself because," he shook his head, wincing slightly, "she was all wrong. She wasn't you."
Another tear rolled down my cheek. He had kissed her while we were apart. Twice. But in all fairness, I had told him I'd never forgive him. But he had kissed her twice. "That was a really terrible plan," I said.
He nodded. "I seem to come up with a lot of really terrible plans when it comes to you." He shook his head.
"Well, it didn't work anyway because I do forgive you."
He brought his hands to my face, cradling it gently. "She told me what she said to you that day you left my apartment. It was a twisted version of the truth, Lydia. Since the day you walked into my office, I haven't been intimate with anyone except you. I haven't desired anyone except you. And that's sort of an understatement." He leaned his head down and put his forehead against mine, letting go of my face, our fingers lacing as our arms lowered.
I closed my eyes briefly, overcome with the memory of the rollercoaster of emotions of that day. I told him about Daisy calling with the news her husband was cheating, about Stuart coming over, and then Courtney showing up.
"Jaysus. No wonder," he said. And he told me about Stuart bringing his folder to his office that day, about how he'd told Brogan I had given it to him, a revelation that made me gasp with horror.
"No," I breathed. "I would never have done that. He must have taken it," I said, looking to the side, envisioning that day. "He followed me to my room, and he must have seen it and-"
"I know, Lydia. I already figured that out."
My eyes searched his, seeing the truth of his forgiveness there-forgiveness I hadn't even realized he was struggling with, forgiveness he'd bestowed before even knowing the truth. Brogan. I clenched my eyes shut with the pain of it all, with my own shame for making him wait for mine. We still had things to talk about, but . . . I knew in my heart everything was going to be okay. Still, regret gripped me.
"I should have talked to you. I should have trusted you."
He shook his head. "I should have charged to where you were and demanded you talk to me and answer my own questions that very day. If I had, I wouldn't have been in my office that night. And before that, I should-" I let go of one of his hands and brought two fingers to his lips.
"Let's not do this anymore. No more I should haves, no more keeping track of wrongs. Love doesn't keep a tally. Love doesn't seek to punish. I forgive you with my whole heart. And if you forgive me, then let's move forward from here. Let's trust each other. Let's be honest with each other, even when it's hard. Especially then."
"I didn't know how I was going to live without you, Lydia. I didn't know," he said, his voice hoarse. "I love you. That's my truth. It's always been my truth."
I smiled, my lips trembling, my heart soaring. "I love you, too."
He let out a breath, pressing his lips to mine, but not moving, as if the contact itself was all he could handle in that moment.
I brought my hands to his hair. "More," I whispered.
"More truth?" I smiled and though I'd meant more kissing, I didn't correct him. He kissed me briefly and pulled back, smoothing my hair.
"I want to have sleepovers with you every night for the rest of my life." He smiled gently. "I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to your face each morning. Someday, I-" he broke off, clearing his throat as he brought his arms around me, "I want to make another baby. I want a family. With you-only you. I want to love you and care for you and make you happy. I want to be your hero."
"Brogan," I said shakily, swallowing heavily. Tears spilled as relief and happiness flowed through every cell of my body.
"Tell me you want the same," he said, his voice an ache-filled whisper. "I'd get down on my knees and beg ya if ya wanted me to."
I shook my head back and forth, my gaze holding his. "I'd never ask it of you, Brogan. Never." The look that passed over his face was one of such raw tenderness, it caused my heart to clench.