I examined my hands as if they held the answers to the universe. “My life was so damn empty, and I was on autopilot. Get up, go to school, study, come home. Wake up, repeat. Day after day, always hoping in the back of my mind that maybe that would be the day I’d hear from you. After you stopped writing, I thought about emailing from the library when I’d go study there sometimes. You have no idea how many emails I wrote and hit delete on.”
“Why didn’t you send one?”
“Because I felt that if you’d wanted me, you wouldn’t have stopped writing. You would’ve tried to keep in touch. Essentially, my pride kept me from you.”
Ezra’s bright eyes clouded with pain. “I’m sorry. I was a complete asshole.”
“Not a complete one.” I grinned to let him know not to beat himself up any longer. “After helping out with whatever needed to be done at home, I’d spend my weekends at the library. Mike was a librarian, older than me and just divorced, having realized later in life that he was gay.”
“That’s rough.”
“He was a sweet guy, and one evening as I was leaving, he asked me out for coffee. One thing led to another, and we had sex in his apartment.”
Ezra grimaced. “Doesn’t sound very romantic.”
I winced, partly at Ezra’s words, but also because he was right. That fumbling, painful night held no special memories.
“Don’t judge me. It satisfied a need we both had. I was lonely, and so was he. I didn’t want to go home to my apartment and be by myself again. Mike was someone to hold for a little while until he told me he’d met someone who wanted to be exclusive. And since I knew I didn’t love him”—I shrugged—“I let him go.”
“I’d never judge you. I’m sorry you felt so isolated.”
“I take responsibility for my actions. I kept everyone at arm’s length because I didn’t want to ever get hurt again.”
“You mean, like I hurt you.”
I ran my fingertip along the rim of my beer bottle. “Yeah. It hurt that you’d forgotten all about me and the promises we’d made and jumped right into the dating scene. If you could drop me so easily, then I wasn’t worth remembering.”
“No, dammit, Roe—”
I put my hand up and smiled. “Don’t get all worked up. Those were the thoughts of seventeen-year-old Monroe. Hurt, angry, and disillusioned. Since then I’ve had affairs, but nothing serious.”
“That man you brought with you to Flashpoint…”
“Colin? I told you he’s dating someone else now.”
“He cared for you. I could tell. He never took his eyes off you. If you’d wanted him, he would’ve been happy to be your lover.”
“Maybe so, but there was a problem.”
“Which was?”
To hell with it. Ross had it right. Life was short, and I’d been too damn lonely for too damn long. “He wasn’t you. And Colin was man enough to recognize there was unfinished business we need to resolve between us, even if I couldn’t. He refused to be second best and didn’t deserve to be.”
“He sounds like a good friend.”
“I’m hoping so. I understand why he’s kept his distance from me. No one wants an ex around.”
Ezra inched closer. “I do. Although I don’t know if we can consider ourselves exes. We never had a chance to break up.” He touched my face. “We missed out on so much.”
“We did, but now we have the luxury of not jumping in because of emotions, and we can take our time instead. If it’s right, it’ll work out.”
Ezra’s eyes danced. “I sense that’s psychologist speak for ‘slow your roll?’”
I shared his smile. “It might be.”
His steady gaze held mine, and I wanted him desperately, as much as in those early days when we’d come home, lock the door to his bedroom so the housekeeper couldn’t barge in, then kiss and touch each other until pleasure melted our bones and the world disappeared for a few hours.
I opened my mouth, not sure if I was going to speak my mind or make a flip comment so as not to get too deep, when Ezra’s phone rang. His brow furrowed, and he shot me a measured glance before picking it up from the coffee table.
