I exhale through my nose. “I honestly don’t know.”
The silence stretches, but she waits.
“Meghan is calculating," I continue, "shallow, self-centered… cold. But she can also be incredibly charming. And when she wants something, she’ll stop at nothing to get it.”
“And she wanted you,” she says.
I nod once. “And she wanted me.”
A pause.
“I thought she loved me,” I admit. “But I was wrong.”
She meets my gaze and offers a soft smile. “She doesn’t know about us, does she?”
“She has no idea,” I say. “The day she picked up Hannah, she met Tina and jumped to her own conclusions. I never corrected her.”
Elle raises her eyebrows. “Doesn’t she talk to Hannah about it? I mean… I’d imagine she’d be asking a million questions.”
“She doesn’t talk to Hannah enough to have a meaningful conversation,” I say, the truth of it settling heavy in my chest. “And honestly? I don’t think she cares enough to want to know who I’m dating.”
"It’s only a matter of time before she finds out," she says, her voice low. Then she bites her lower lip. A quick, subconscious move she doesn’t even realize she’s making, completely unaware of how it affects me.
I stare at her, and we’re so in sync with each other that I can feel her shift as clearly as my own. I expect her to look away, but instead, she holds my gaze with equal intensity.
The stillness stretches between us, quiet and charged. Neither of us speaks, unwilling to break the spark building in the air.
We’re at an impasse, both waiting to see who’ll make the first move.
I don't have to wait long. Elle reaches up, her fingers sliding around the back of my neck with a quiet urgency that sends a pulse of heat straight through me. She pullsme down with her, and we sink into the couch, the world around us fading to the background.
Our lips meet, softly, hesitantly at first. Just a brush. A question. Then, as if we both find the answer at once, the kiss deepens. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I wrap my arms around her, anchoring her to me like I’ve wanted to for longer than I’m willing to admit.
She tastes like peppermint and something sweet I can’t name, and the quiet sigh that escapes her lips nearly undoes me. There’s nothing rushed in the way we move, just a slow ache that’s been building between us for far too long.
By the time we part, my heart is pounding like I’ve run five miles, and the truth begins to sink in. Elle loves me too.
She clears her throat, a soft pink blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I got carried away."
I smile, our lips so close I have to fight the urge to kiss her again.
"I’m not complaining," I murmur, unable to hide just how much I love her. How much I need her.
"Nate must be waiting for you to relieve him of his babysitting duties," she says, straightening up on the couch and tugging at the hem of her skirt.
"Hannah is spending the night at my parents, and Nate went home."
Her eyes widen slightly as the realization sinks in—we have all the timein the world.
She studies me for a beat, as if debating whether to bolt from the couch like she did the day she found out who I am, or if she’s finally ready to tell me how she feels.
"I love you, Cal," she says, her voice a soft confession that has the power to change everything.
I lean in, my voice low, whispering against her ear, "I know. But are you going to let me love you, Elle? Or are you going to keep pushing me away, trapped by the past? I need to know. For me, for Hannah, and for you. Are you ready to let me love you?"
She smiles, but doesn't shy away this time. "We have all the time in the world," she whispers back. "I'm ready."
When I cup her neck and kiss her this time, there’s no hesitation. Her lips are soft and inviting against mine, like they’ve always belonged to me. There’s no rush, no need to hurry—just a slow, tender sweetness unfolding between us. I feel her body relax into mine, the tension melting away as she surrenders to the kiss, to me.
