I stop just a few feet away, but she doesn’t. She launches herself at me, full speed.
I catch her, my arms closing around her as she wraps her legs around my waist, burying her face in my neck.
“You can’t leave,” she murmurs against my skin. “You can’t just leave,” she pleads.
I’m holding her so damn tight, I’m probably crushing her, but I can’t loosen my grip. I can’t let her slip away.
“I’m not letting you go,” I promise, my voice breaking.
She pulls back, cradling my face in her hands. “I’m an idiot. I’m such a bloody idiot—”
I lower her to the floor gently and she doesn’t let go.
“No. No, you’re not, sweetheart,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“I’m so scared I won’t be good enough for you,” she whispers, her eyes closing. “Do you even know me, Max? You see the confident Gemma who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it. But that’s not all of me.” She peers up at me. “I’ve pushed people away because they couldn’t handle what I need. I need to feel alive. I need someone who meets my intensity and doesn’t make me feel like a freak for wanting more.”
“I love every version of who you are. I’ve seen your intense side and I’ve seen your soft side. Both are real and both are beautiful. They’re what make you, you.” I search her eyes. “You feel this?” I take her hand and place it over my heart. “You feel that?”
She nods.
“That’s for you. That’s what you do,” I tell her. “You’re not just good for me. You’re the reason my heart remembers how to beat properly.”
Her breath hitches. “Max…”
“I chooseyou, Gemma. Always.”
“I choose you too,” she whispers.
Her thumbs brush across my cheekbones. “I should have let you explain. I should have trusted you. But I saw her hands on you and I just…”
“You always run,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “You can’t run, baby. You have to talk to me.”
“I know.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “I’ve spent years running, but I can’t anymore… you’re the first person who’s ever made me want to stay.”
I swallow thickly.
“I love you,” she says, her voice quiet. “I love you so much.”
I take her hand and gently kiss the back of it. “Then let me love you back. Properly.”
She nods and rises to her toes. I don’t wait. I meet her in the middle, slamming my mouth against hers.
The airport intercom crackles above us. “This is a final boarding call for Mr. Browne on British Airways flight two-seven-eight to New York, departing from gate thirty-three. Aircraft is ready for departure.”
We break apart, chests heaving, pupils dilated.
“They’re waiting for you,” she says.
“Let them wait,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But your flight—” she starts.
“Fuck the flight.”
“Max, your job—”
“I’m not going. I told you, I’ll figure it out.”
