Yeah, me. I asked for that. Because I needed that.
But fuck him for following through.
I suck in a slow, calming breath. “I’m not going to do this with you here, Patton?—”
“Then don’t.” He steps toward me, swallowing hard. “Not here, not anywhere. Have dinner with me.”
“Why?” The bitterness leaks out before I can contain it. “So we can rehash what happened and come to the same conclusion—that you chose your career over me and I chose to be okay with it? Until I wasn’t. Until I had to live the most excruciating night of my life alone because you weren’t there?”
Though he doesn’t flinch, his eyes close for a moment too long, confirmation that I’ve hit my mark.
My throat feels dry. It’s not like I want to hurt him. I know what happened between us wasn’t all on him. But it’s as if justhis presence alone has the power to bring everything bubbling to the surface, making it all seep out through angry, bitter words.
But the truth is . . . I miss him.
I miss the boy I fell in love with and the man I watched him become.
I miss my best friend. My husband. The only person who could make me laugh until I cried, and the only person to have turned real tears into laughter.
I miss him, dammit. With every hollow breath, with a longing set inside my bones. I don’t know when I’ll get over him.
Patton takes my hand, and though the current that zips through me should have me pulling back from his touch, I let him.
Maybe because I’m tired of pretending to be strong, unfeeling, and okay. Maybe because I’ve spent the last six years building walls that he’s managed to crumble in a mere six minutes. Or maybe because his hand feels warm and familiar against my cold one.
“No,” he says softly, shaking his head. “I’m not here to rehash or defend my mistakes, Little Borealis. I’ve been living the consequences of my decisions, day in and day out. I’m asking you to put it all aside for just a night. A few hours. Hell, I’ll even take one hour if that’s all you’ll give me.”
“But why?”
His rich brown eyes hold my charcoal ones, and in them I see a reflection of my own longing. “Because I miss you, plain and simple.”
The corners of my eyes prick, betraying tears threatening to spill as I recall the messages he sent me the first year after we separated. Messages saying he missed me and wanted me back. Messages I left unanswered. Like clockwork, he sent them daily. Until I asked him not to and changed my number.
Because I couldn’t survive them.
Hell, I barely survived without them.
But I had to do what was right for me at the time.
But now? With him saying those words aloud and my hand still inside his . . . do I have any fight left?
“I don’t know, Patton,” I say finally, but we both know I’m not saying no.
“I’m not asking for forever, Little Borealis. Just dinner.”
That shouldn’t have sent a stabbing pain through my ribs, but I barely stop myself from rubbing my chest.
I pull my hand out of his grasp. Not because I want to, but because I need to. Because, with just one touch, he has me breaking all rules and resolve. If I don’t reset and give myself a little distance to think, he’ll have the power to break a lot more. To take a lot more.
I glance away, thinking of another way to stall. “I’m leaving L.A. tomorrow morning.”
“Then I guess we need to make tonight worth it.”
A beat passes between us, with his victory shining through his smug smile before I’ve even provided an answer.
I sigh, shaking my head and knowing I’m being reckless.
But it has been so long since I have.
