“Are you sure?” His voice was barely audible. “Because I can’t lose you again, Gianna. If we do this and it doesn’t work, if you wake up one day and realize you can’t get past what I did—I don’t think I’d survive that.”
“I’m not sure about anything except that standing here looking at you hurts less than staying away does.” I reached up and touched his face, feeling stubble that said he’d forgotten to shave, feeling him lean into my palm like he was starving for contact. “I don’t know if this will work. But I want to try. Is that enough?”
“It’s everything.” He pulled me against him suddenly, his arms wrapping around me tight enough that I could barely breathe. “God, I’ve missed you. Every single day I’ve missed you.”
I buried my face in his chest and breathed him in. He smelled like coffee and laundry detergent and something underneath that was just him. My body remembered this, remembered fitting against him like we’d been designed to occupy the same space.
He pulled back just enough to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything—for lying, for not being brave enough to tell you the truth, for destroying your family and then destroying you all over again. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of this second chance.”
“It’s not a second chance.” I pulled back to look at him properly. “I’m not giving you another chance. I’m giving us both one.”
His eyes were wet and his smile was trembling but real. “I love you. I know I’ve said it before but I need you to hear it now. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I will spend every day proving I’ve changed, that I’m worth the risk you’re taking on me.”
“I love you too.” The words came easier than I expected. “I tried not to. Tried to hate you instead. But apparently my heart didn’t get the memo.”
He laughed through tears and kissed me again. Softer this time, sweeter, like he was memorizing the moment.
When we finally pulled apart, I was crying and he was crying, and we were both holding onto each other like letting go might make this disappear.
The office phone rang and someone called Archer’s name from across the room. He sighed.
“I have a client meeting in ten minutes.”
“Go.” I stepped back, giving him space even though I didn’t want to. “We’ll figure this out. Dinner maybe? Somewhere we can actually talk?”
“Dinner sounds perfect.” He looked at me like he still couldn’t quite believe I was here.
“I’ll text you my address.”
He smiled. “You unblocked me.”
“Weeks ago.”
“Don’t change your mind between now and then.”
“I won’t.” And I meant it. “Go help your client.”
I watched him walk back to his desk, watched him pick up files and pull himself together into professional mode. But he kept glancing at me like he needed to make sure I was still there, still real.
I waved and headed for the door, feeling lighter than I had in six months.
I pulled out my phone and called my mother.
“Mija? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,Mamá.” I smiled despite the tears still on my face. “I think I’m going to be okay. I saw him—Archer. We talked.”
“And?”
“And I think maybe we’re going to try again. Maybe.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then: “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“No. But I’m sure I want to try. Is that enough?”
“That’s everything, baby. That’s how all the best things start.”
