I pull her into me, not knowing what else to do, but it seems like enough in the moment. Emma’s body melts into mine, and her trembling eases as she grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me flush against her. A shiver runs down me, settling deep in my core at the feel of her against me, how well we fit together.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she breathes.
“Don’t apologize.”
“But I am.”
“Emma, stop.” I step back just enough to block the wind. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I know what I looked like in there. A lunatic staring at a table. I need to get a grip.”
“You’re going through a lot, Steven.”
“You are too, damn it!” My voice ricochets off the brick, and she winces. I inhale sharply, pressing her wrists to my chest, feeling terrified to let her go.
“We’re all going through a lot right now,” I say. “You don’t need to treat me like some feral cat that’ll bolt if you make eye contact with me. I’m a grown man. I’m not going to run away.”
Something about my words hits her too hard, and she stumbles back, the jacket slipping down her arms.
“What? No, come here.” I reach for her.
“I…I think I need to go,” she whispers.
“What are you talking about?”
“I have work Monday, the boys have school. I think we should go home early.”
I blink. “Okay, we can leave first thing in the morning.”
“No.” She swallows hard. “I think you should stay here.”
“You don’t want me to come?”
“That’s not…” She breathes, her eyes fighting the urge to look away again. “I think, like you said, we’re all going through a lot. I think you need space. Time to work through all of this. Time to see if things come back and…”
“And what?” I snap. “See if my life is better without you in it?”
She gapes at me, but her silence is answer enough. I know it’s what she’s thinking. She thinks if I’m away from her long enough, I’ll realize I don’t want her. That losing my memories will show me I’m better off without her.
“That’s not—”
“Emma, please. I know, okay? I know what you’re thinking.” My voice shakes, but I push on. “You think this is your fault. That you’re the reason things are hard. That I’m too stressed because of you.” I swallow. “You probably even think you’re the reason this”—I tap my temple—“happened.”
She recoils like I’ve offended her. Maybe I have, but the truth hurts. And she can’t keep running from it.
“I…” Her mouth opens, closes. She drags her teeth over her red lip, her lipstick for the night still firmly painted there. “I don’t know how to help you. I feel like everything I do makes it worse.” Her voice trembles at the admission, at the pain she’s feeling.
I don’t want her to go. But I don’t know if forcing her to stay will beany better.
“Please don’t leave,” I say, and my voice cracks so pathetically it barely sounds like mine. “Please, Emma.”
Her tears fall onto my fingers as I cup her face. My thumbs trace her cheekbones, her lips, her jaw, desperate to keep her. She’s slipping away, and I can’t stop her.
I love you,I want to tell her. My mouth opens to say it, but all that comes out is, “I can’t do this without you.”
I’ve never felt so weak, so vulnerable. I know myself enough to know I would never let a woman see me this way. This fragile shell of a man. And something tells me I haven’t let myself break in front of her before. At least not fully. I can tell by the way her eyes search mine, searching for reassurance that she’s not the only one falling apart.
Tell her she’s not alone. Tell her.
Disappointment and heartbreak glaze her eyes when I don’t say anything else. Her hand finds my cheek as she traces the stubble along my jaw. She presses a trembling kiss to the corner of my mouth and heads for the door.
