The corners of her lips twitch into an almost smile. “It just seems so…out of nowhere, which makes me distrust it.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
She shakes her head.
“Have I ever said something to you that I didn’t mean?”
She gives me a measured look. “Except that you were stalking my apartment when you told me you wouldn’t be in touch likethatafter we ended.”
I tilt my head, more entertained than I should be. “Exceptthat.”
“No, Ransom, usually, if you’re saying something, it’s because you believe it. Doesn’t mean that you sometimes believe some really dumb things.”
I sway us as if we’re dancing. “You mean like thinking how the age gap between us was a problem?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“I was wrong.”
She swallows. Her expression folds in on itself, quiet and raw. “What if you do something like that again? Decide…I don’t know—that we shouldn’t have children because you’ll be an old father. Or….”
Understanding dawns. I nod slowly, considering my response.
I ended us unilaterally. Then I told our families about our past and my intentions on my own withoutconsulting her. In both instances, I disrespected her, didn’t treat her like an equal.
“I’ve never been in a healthy relationship. I’d like to be in one with you, which means when I make decisions for us—or even for just me when we’re a couple—I talk to you about it.”
That revelation-slash-vow surprises her. Her eyebrows lift slightly. The weight in her shoulders shifts.
“We’re a team, Em,” I continue, desperate to convince her. “You and me. Just like during the wine tasting.”
She huffs a soft laugh. “You mean because I have a better palate than you?”
I smile, grateful she’s teasing me again. “Exactly. We won because we listened. Trusted each other’s instincts. Didn’t try to outsmart one another.”
Her features soften with tenderness. “You’re saying you want us to be partners. Not just…a man trying to win over a woman he hurt?”
“I want that, too,” I admit. “But I want more. I want tobuildthis time. Build us. Where we check in with each other, where I don’t steamroll ahead with what I think is best, and leave you trying to catch up.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Then start here. Start now.”
I kiss her lips. It’s a benediction. It’s gratitude. It’s a promise.
“Tell me what you need from me.”
She meets my gaze evenly. “Consistency. Honesty. And time.”
“Done,” I whisper.
Her fingers curl around mine, and the smallest smile ghosts across her lips. Hope, though barely visible, is there. “I used to think love was supposed to be obvious. Easy. Now, I think maybe it’s just…showing up. Again and again.”
“I can do that.” I feel like the worst and smallest man in the world. Her needs are so simple, so basic, and I discarded her and us without giving us a chance. “Iwantto do that.”
Worry and doubt crease her face. “Are you sure you’re not just chasing a ghost?”
I know what she means. The version of her I’ve held onto all these years. The memory. The regret. The easy comfort of nostalgia. But this—her, now—is not an illusion.
“I’m not chasing a ghost,” I assure her. “I’m looking at you. Rightnow. Notthen. Not some ‘what if.’ Just you. Just now.”
