“And I need you to tell me who she didn’t compare to.”
His trademark sexy smirk makes its debut tonight. “You want everything from me but aren’t willing to give up anything yourself… typical Lydia.”
“That’s not very nice.” His words make me sad, his pain obvious.
“I guess I feel a little bitter,” he says calmly, “maybe even a little vulnerable.” He doesn’t feel vulnerable. He’s playing me now, using his lawyer tactics on me. No one sounds that confident if they’re feeling vulnerable.
That’s okay. I can give him what he wants. He deserves to hear some of my truths. “I only had one real relationship while I was in New York, and it ended on New Year’s Eve two years ago,” I say, leaving that tidbit for him to digest.
His arms drop to his side as he stares at me. I can tell the pieces have fallen into place when he asks, “Why’d you break up?”
“He read your text.”
“That was a goodbye text. Why would you break up over that?”
“He knew. Seeing the text confirmed the suspicions he’d had all along.”
“And what suspicions were those?”
“You know what suspicions, Chase. Are you really going to make me do this?”
“Yes, because you owe me this much. Why didn’t you let him in? What were his suspicions?”
Feeling cornered, my temper flares, which is something that only happens when I feel I’ve lost the upper hand. I walk into the living room to gather my thoughts, and to try to slow my racing pulse. Being put on the spot has never been a strong point of mine.
“Lydia, tell me or leave.”
An internal debate wages as my mind whirls with options. I don’t think I’m as ready to do this as I first thought, but my heart argues the point. Stay… stay for him. But my pride cops an attitude. Leave! Put the wall back up and protect yourself.
I lean down and pick my purse up off the table then take a couple of steps toward the door, letting my pride win as always.
He rushes forward to block my exit, and says, “Don’t do this. I thought we weren’t going to pull this bullshit anymore. Just tell me.”
I’m weak, feeling out of control. I reach for the deadbolt under his arm, but he presses against it, keeping me from escaping. “Tell me, Lydia,” he begs for an answer.
I finally crack, and let all my pent up emotions flow out of me. “I was in love with you. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you happy? I didn’t realize it then. I didn’t realize it six months ago. I fucking realized it the day you were getting married, and it was too late.” I will myself to hold eye contact to back my conviction and confession.
“It’s not too late. I didn’t get married because she wasn’t you. She didn’t compare to you, Lydia. No one does.” He grabs my wrists that are still struggling to break out of here, and he stills them between us. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave me… again. I love you. I loved you then. I still love you now. I don’t know how to put the hurt aside, but I’m willing to try for you—for one true shot at a real relationship without the façade of work and friends and fucked up priorities.”
I’m stunned. He’s willing to forget my dumbass mistakes of the past and accept me as I am now. I feel the fight leave my body, and relax under his grip. “Really?” I ask softly.
“Really,” he answers without hesitation.
Falling against him, I revel in the moment by wrapping my arms around his middle and leaning my cheek against his chest. I love this man. I say it out loud, wanting him to know I’m solid in this belief. “I love you, Chase.”
“I love you too, Lydia.” His arms tighten around me, his head dropping to my shoulder.
“You’re still my best friend.”
“And you’re still mine.”
“But I want more with you,” I say, feeling happy in this moment of freedom from the restraining way of life I held myself in for so long.
He kisses the top of my head. He knows me well and knows that was hard for me to admit. His hand slides up my back and caresses my neck. “I want a whole lot more with you, too.”
Leaning my head back, I look at him, really taking in all of his handsome face. I’m on the verge of kissing him, but my stomach grumbles, making me smile. “I haven’t eaten much today. Sorry.”
“Well, let’s get you fed then. I have a lot planned for you, and fuel will definitely be needed.”
I’m loving this new side of him. I love all sides of him, but I might be a little partial to this open book, say anything side of him. “So no taking it slow?” I ask, positive that I don’t want to take it slow, either.