The truth of what he was saying punched me in the gut. It was so pure, so... contrary to everything I believed, I almost couldn’t accept it. So instead, I asked, “Are you still on an antidepressant?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. I weaned off it about a year ago. But I’m glad I know it’s available. I’m glad I have the option. I know what to look for now. I know the signs. You know, I just said we get to choose happiness. But also, I want to acknowledge that there are moments in our life when we need help getting to that point. And that’s what the prescription was for me. Just a little help until I could do it on my own.”
Gosh, he sounded so different from the man I had let charm me into bed all those years ago. I saw what he confessed. I knew he had been selfish back then. But I’d been naive enough not to care. Not to think it mattered. After all, my expectations of myself—of men—were low as well.
“Ada,” he said slowly, tenderly.
I pulled myself out of the past and met his intense gaze. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry I thought I had to push you away to keep from hurting you. I’m sorry I hurt you at all.”
The lump in my throat was back. But there was action in my bones. I couldn’t not touch him right now. I couldn’t let him go on thinking he was the only person to blame for the hurt that built between us.
I crossed the small kitchen and grabbed his face between my hands, holding him steady so I could stare into the fathomlessness of his green eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you too. Maybe not at first, but definitely once I’d decided I didn’t like you. I was awful. I was one of those people who didn’t believe in you and let you know it. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.”
I’d smooshed his face between my hands, but he managed a wonky smile. Realizing how tight my grip was, I gave him some breathing room.
“I forgive you,” he said.
“I forgive you too,” I promised.
There was a heavy, intense, soul-splitting moment when we looked each other straight in the eye and let the wounds from our past fall away. We were starting fresh. We were starting over. We were starting with truth and compassion and empathy.
“I’m glad it didn’t work out between us, though,” he said when I finally pulled my hands away.
He snatched my wrists before I could retreat to my corner of the island and tugged me against his chest. Then he wrapped my arms around his waist and held my wrists behind his back, grinning down at me.
“Really?”
“Oh, for sure,” he confirmed. “I would have definitely fucked up pretty quickly, you would have quit the bar in a flurry of rage and revenge, and we would never have become friends. The bar would have absolutely failed by now without you to rein us in. And I would probably be homeless and living out of a box somewhere.”
I snorted. “That’s grim, English.”
“But true.”
“I do like the part where you give me all the credit for the bar's success.”
He grinned, and it was his true Charlie smile with all that double portion of charm and sexiness. “What else do you like, Ada? I’m happy to oblige.”
Butterflies gathered together in my stomach and launched themselves upward, fluttering, flapping, free-falling. “I like that you got me the loft,” I told him sincerely.
“Mm, what else?”
“And that you brought me tacos. And chips and salsa. I really like that.”
He nodded seriously. “And the margaritas.”
“For sure. But chips and salsa are my favorite.”
“I know.” At my curious expression, he added, “It comes up in conversation more than a normal amount.”
A surprise laugh bubbled out of me. “That’s not true. It’s a normal amount of chips and salsa conversation.”
“Ada, you bring it up a lot. I mean, on a busy night? We’re talking one hundred chips and salsa conversations. At least. The whole city of Durham knows it’s your favorite food by now. When they talk about Craft, they mention the good drinks and that one server obsessed with chips and salsa.”
I shook with laughter. “You’re full of it.”
He glanced over at the island. The chips and salsa were gone. He poured his heart out. I ate my weight in chips and salsa. It was fine. Everything was fine.
