“You look beautiful as ever,” he says in a voice rough with sorrow as Butters eagerly licks one of his hands to greet him.
And as haggard as he may look, he still is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
“What are you doing here, Dak? How did you even get upstairs?”
Someone has to unlock the main door downstairs in order for anyone to get to any of the apartments. I didn’t buzz him in.
“I just followed one of the other tenants in.”
“Oh.”
“I would have called first, but it seems as if you’ve blocked my number?”
He’s right.
“That’s right.” I put a hand on my hip. “I have. And if you had called to say you were coming over, I would have told you not to bother. You shouldn’t be here.”
“There are things going on in my life that I wanted to talk to the one person who actually gives a damn about.”
“Oh, you need a sympathetic shoulder to cry on? Well, I’m no longer your therapist. Talk to Cap or your parents. They care about you.”
“Not in the way that you do…or at least that you did.”
He moves a step closer to me, perhaps testing the waters, but I move a step back. He tries again, this time reaching out to touch my arm, but I flinch away.
“Don’t,” I say firmly. “Don’t touch me. Say whatever you came to say and then leave.”
Dak looks hurt by my firm rejection, wounded even. But I can’t bring myself to care. Not after everything that’s happened between us.
“I know I messed up,” he continues. “But please, just hear me out. I need you.”
“I’ll give you a referral to another clinician, if that’s what you need.”
“I don’t need a therapist…I need you. I love you, Katrina. And I’m not sure if anything in my life makes sense without you in it.”
I stand there, stunned, as the words “I love you, Katrina” echo in my ears. The world seems to pause as if holding its breath, waiting for my reaction. Dak, the man who always had an uncanny ability to be unreadable, to hide behind a curtain of sardonic humor and casual nonchalance, just bared his soul to me. His confession hangs heavily in the air between us.
“Dak,” I breathe out, my voice barely a whisper. I look into his eyes, searching. His beautiful, brown eyes are filled with a mixture of fear and hope, and something more–a raw honesty that takes my breath away.
“I’ll say it again because I’m not sure if you heard me. I don’t need a therapist…” he repeats, the corners of his mouth lifting in a self-deprecating smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I need you. I love you, Katrina. And I’m not sure if anything in my life makes sense without you in it.”
I can’t help but reel at the intensity of his confession... He loves me. His words wrap around me like the warmest embrace, sinking deep into my soul.
“I should have never believed for a second that you wrote that letter. It never made sense that you would do that to me, but my pea sized brain was doing all the thinking instead of my heart.”
“I...” I start to say, only to realize I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside me. Relief. Joy. Fear. Love. So much love.
“Now let me confess that my general manager called and told me he pushed for Well Minds to recommend more therapy and that he talked to John about it and not you. It’s obvious now that your supervisor was the one who wrote the letter and signed your name. Despite that, I swear I was coming to my senses. I’d be here apologizing even if he hadn’t called. I promise you.”
I allow him to plead his case, but it doesn’t even matter to me how he came to the realization of his mistake. I’m just happy that he’s here and that he’s mine again.
I take a step forward, reaching out to cradle his face in my hands. He leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut. His usually composed features are softened now, making him look vulnerable, almost fragile.
“I...” I try again, my throat tightening around the words. I swallow, forcing myself to speak. “I don’t know what I would do without you, either, Dak.” My voice is thick with emotion, but I want him to understand. To see.
“Really?”
His eyes blink open, a spark of hope dancing in his gaze. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to make my own confession. It feels like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to leap into the unknown.
