Reid’s eyes lift from his beer. His expression is flat, but I notice a softening, a willingness to listen.
“What happened at the hotel... I was making excuses to deal with how scared I was. I wasn’t just terrified of my heart being broken again. I was terrified ofyoubeing the one to break it. I care about you so much, Reid. I never stopped caring about you. So if things didn’t work out again... it would hurt so much more. It’s like we have this found time, and all I could think about was when it was going to run out.”
Reid takes a breath, and his fingers drum against his glass. The silence stretches between us like a chasm.
“I should’ve called you out the second you started spiraling,” he finally says. “I saw exactly what you were doing—trying to talk yourself out of this. And I just... let you.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and the strands fall in a way that makes me want to reach over and smooth them. He looks out the window, like he’s gathering himself. There’s something raw in his expression when he considers me again, his walls torn down completely. His voice is lower, rougher. “I have to be honest, Lili. When you started listing all the ways this wouldn’t work, all the ways we were doomed... a part of me believed you. I just thought... well, I fucked everything up with Thea. Why wouldn’t I do it again?”
I see it in my mind: This being the end for us. Him breaking my heart at this bar. But now that’s not the most frightening thing. Hiding myself from him—not throwing everything at this—is.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I know I broke your trust. I intended to.”
“I understand why you thought blowing this up was the safer route. I understood it as it was happening, but that didn’t make it any less disappointing.”
“Am I really so transparent?”
“To me, you are.”
“That scares me, you know. I’ve been so used to hiding with people, and I wasn’t ready for the exposed way I feel with you. But maybe that’s exactly the point. To be ableto be vulnerable without worrying about the other person bolting. It’s what my parents have, it’s what I experienced with you back then, and I think it’s what I truly want—have always wanted—in a relationship. When I couldn’t have it with James, I think I convinced myself I didn’t really need it.” I take a breath. “And then you showed up. Again. And you reminded me both of what I wanted and of what I’d lost. And... well, you saw what happened.”
“I let you walk out last night. I shouldn’t have, but I—” Reid starts. “After all the ways I failed Thea, I’ve been terrified to try this with someone else. So what you said, what you did... for a moment, it felt like I was right to let you go.”
My eyes burn, and I have to close them. “I don’t want to be the person who validates your fears. I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes, but I want to try. I want to show you that I can. And I have faith that you’ll call me on my bullshit.” I laugh. “But I think that might actually be what love is—being seen for exactly who you are.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, leaving my proverbial hat in my hand. But the distance between us seems to contract now, inching us closer together, bit by bit.
“I’ve wanted to see you for who you are since the night we met,” Reid says softly, “but you haven’t always let me.”
“I’m letting you. I don’t want to waste any more time hiding. Especially from you.”
Reid laughs, the sound of a broken thing being mended. “Time is not one of our more abundant resources.”
“But we still have enough of it. Right?”
When he looks at me now, I don’t see the boy I once loved, the one who slipped into my life with a quiet determination and evoked so many novel urges in me: protectiveness, admiration, bone-deep need. I see this man, fortuitous and undeniable. It’s like the shift from nostalgia to hope.
And I like this feeling more.
“Since we’re doing this...” He rests his hands on the table. “Then I promise I won’t let you walk out the fucking door again.”
Relief washes through me. My whole body is flooded with it, with an understanding of just how precious his forgiveness is. “That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He looks at me intently. “If we’re in this, we need to see it through. There hasn’t been a day over the past thirty years that I haven’t wondered whether I made the wrong decision when I went back home.”
“You can’t think that way,” I say, even though I know exactly how he feels.
“I know I can’t, but I still do. I understand that we needed to go through what we went through—butterfly effect, whatever—and yet I still wish it had happened differently. Let’s not have to wish that again.”
We look at each other for a long moment, and I push aside what we could have been and let in everything we still might be.
As if on cue, mine and Reid’s phones both chime.
“I have a feeling I know who this is,” Reid says, reaching for his.
Then he lets out a laugh that’s unmistakably Gracie-induced—the kind that comes from being managed by your child.
I check mine and, unsurprisingly, find a text from Emme.Stay out as long as you want. I’m w Gracie then sleeping at dad’s. Good luck!!!!
“What’s yours say?” I ask.
