“You were?”
He told me that he noticed me from the start, but obsessed?
Oliver swallows hard. “I should have asked you for your name, but I waited at the entrance of our building like a creep just to see which mailbox you used. I tried to time my coffee breaks with yours, hoping for a tiny chance that you might say hello or meet my gaze. And when you did, it would make my whole week.”
It’s not like I didn’t watch them from afar too.
“It made mine, too,” I admit, meeting his vulnerability with my own truth, but he just gives me a small smile like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“I knew it from the very first moment. I saw you, and my heart was stolen. I was obsessed with you from the start, and it only got worse. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to step out of the shadows and love you in the light, the way you deserve to be loved.”
“Oliver…” There is pain and regret etched in his eyes, as clear as lines of code on a screen.
“You deserve someone who’s not afraid to show their love openly, someone who can be there for you without hiding in the shadows…” Oliver pauses, running his free hand through his hair and taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “I wasterrified, Amelia. Terrified that if you knew the real me, you’d see all my flaws and walk away.”
His rawness makes my heart ache. He steps closer, letting go of my hand, only to reach out to hold my face. “I know I’ve messed up, and I can’t change the past. But I promise you, Amelia, from this moment on, I willlove you in the light. I will be brave, and I will show you every day how much you mean to me. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Tears start to form in his eyes, glistening behind his glasses, and he doesn’t try to hide them. The sight of them makes my own eyes burn with unshed tears. “I love you, Amelia. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And I’ll love you until my heart gives out.”
Fuck.
I’m not only done withmyhurt.
I’m done withtheirstoo.
So I tell him the only thing that matters, putting my hand over his on my cheek. “I love you, too, Oliver.”
His eyes widen in shock at my admission, and before I can say anything more, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly as if he’s afraid to let go. I can feel the rapid beating of his heart against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. We hold each other for a long moment, our breaths mingling as we soak in the closeness.
Slowly, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze softens, filled with wonder and love. He cradles my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from my cheek. His touch is tender, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.
Then, with a softness that makes my heart ache, he leans in and starts kissing me—my head, my forehead, my cheeks, my nose—his lips soft and urgent. “You’re my favorite laugh…”kiss“… my favorite scent…”kiss“… my favorite face…”kiss“… my favorite person…”kiss“… my favorite everything…” He gives me a quick peck on the lips as if he’s afraid to kiss me longer. “My Fave.”
Pushing myself to my toes, I press my lips to his and taste the way he sucks in a breath. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him in closer, deepening the kiss. His hands grip my waist, anchoring us together, and I can feel the intensity of his emotions through every touch and kiss, making my stomach tingle. Our kiss becomes more urgent, as if we’re trying to make up for all the time we’ve lost. I can feel his need, his love, and his desperation in every movement, and I want nothing more than to devour him completely, to show him that I feel the same.
After what feels like an eternity, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “I have something for you,” he murmurs.
He leads me to the blankets and pulls out a stack of what looks like letters from behind a pillow as I sit down. Sitting next to me, he hands them over with a mixture of nervousness and hope in his eyes.
“I wrote you over the years,” he explains. “When I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t find the courage, I wrote everything down. There are many,so manymore, but I brought just a few tonight. If you want them, you can have all of them when we’re back in Seattle. I want you to know everything I ever wanted to tell you.”
“Letters, like Mr. Darcy?”
Oliver chuckles. “I’m no Mr. Darcy, but yes.”
He hands me as small stack, but I just look at them, unsure if reading them would violate his privacy after I had preached that they hurt me by violating mine.
Oliver watches me for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I think it might be better if I explain where each letter is from. It might help you understand.”
I nod, my curiosity piqued. He takes back the letters, sorts through them, and hands me the first two.
“These two are from two years ago before I ever spoke to you,” he says, smiling at me. My heart aches at the thought of all the time we could have spent together. Then he hands me the next one. “This one is from after our coffee date. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be with you. I wrote it as soon as I got back to the office.”
I smile, remembering our date, which I only now know for sure was in fact, a date.
Oliver hands me another letter, his expression turning serious. “This one is from after we had to take you to the hospital. I was so scared, Amelia. I thought I was going to lose you.”
You were scared for me?
