"The social media, the calendar, I didn't do any of that just to win you back." I paused, searching for the right words. "I did it because I wanted to be someone who deserved you. You're not the kind of woman who ends up with a guy who posts shirtless photos for strangers to comment on. You're not the kind of woman who should have to wonder if her boyfriend's DMs are full of other women. You deserve better than that. I wanted to be better than that."
I took a step closer.
"I was tired of being that guy. The one who collected attention because it was easier than being alone. The one who let women see exactly what they expected and nothing more." I shook my head. "You made me want to be someone real. Someone worth staying for. So I deleted the accounts. Asked Rodriguez to take me off the calendar. Because I didn't want to be him anymore."
A tear slipped down her cheek. I reached up, brushed it away with my thumb, and let my hand stay there, cupping her face.
"I love you," I said. The words came out simpler than I expected. "I love you, and I needed you to know. I'm not asking for anything back. I'm not trying to change your mind. I needed to tell you because you deserve to hear it."
Her chin trembled against my palm.
"You spent your whole life with people who left without explaining," I said quietly. "Who disappeared and let you fill in the blanks with your worst fears. I didn’t want to be another name on that list. Even if you never wanted to see me again, I needed you to know the truth. I needed you to know that someone thought you were worth fighting for."
"I knew everything you just said,” she whispered. “I’ve known for days, and I still couldn't make myself come to you because I was terrified.” Her voice broke. “What if you’ve moved on? What if you don’t want me anymore? What if I broke something that can't be fixed?"
"Maya—"
She reached up and cupped my face, mirroring me. Her palm was warm against my jaw.
"I told myself tonight was the night I'd finally go to you. And then you knocked." Her voice cracked. "You came back. After everything I did. After I slammed the door in your face and blocked your number and refused to see you. You still came back."
"I'll always come back."
I brushed the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. She looked up at me with those brown eyes, and for the first time since I'd met her, the walls were gone. All the way down.
"I love you," I said again. "I loved you when you slammed the door in my face. I loved you when you wouldn't look at me in that parking lot. I'm going to love you when you're difficult and scared and convinced you're not worth staying for. Because you are, Maya. You always have been."
Something shifted in her face. Relief. Wonder. The tension she'd been carrying for five weeks was finally letting go.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth and lingered there for a few seconds.
Then she leaned in.
The first brush of her lips was tentative. Testing. Like she was making sure I was real. I held still, let her come to me, let her set the pace.
Then her hands slid into my hair, and she pulled me closer, and the kiss turned into something else entirely. Not careful. Not tentative. The kiss of a woman who was done running.
I pulled her against me, one hand sliding into her hair, the other pressed flat against her back. I kissed her until neither of us could breathe, until the five weeks of agony dissolved into nothing, until there was no space left between us.
When we broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both of us breathing hard, she laughed softly.
"I ruined my makeup."
"You look beautiful."
"I look like a raccoon."
"A beautiful raccoon."
She laughed again, and the sound loosened something in my chest that had been wound tight for weeks.
"We're idiots," she said.
"Complete idiots."
"I wasted five weeks."
"We both did." I kissed her forehead. "Let's not do that again."
