I don’t run.
“Hey,” he says. His voice is rough. Exhausted. But his eyes, those eyes, they’re looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters. Like now that he’s here, everything else can wait.
“Hey,” I say back.
We stand there, looking at each other. All the words I’ve been rehearsing, the apologies, the explanations, the reasons, evaporate like morning fog. All I can think is:He’s here. He showed up.
Mom was right.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say. My voice sounds wrong. Too small. Too scared.
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his already-messy hair. Takes a breath. “I did.”
Silence stretches between us. Ruffy looks back and forth, uncertain.
“The photo,” I start.
“Wasn’t what it looked like.” He cuts me off, but gently. “She hugged me for a publicity stunt. I pushed her away right after. I didn’t even know the photo existed until after you hung up on me.”
All those hours I spent staring at that image, the stories I told myself. And it was nothing.
“I should have asked you,” I whisper.
“Yeah. You should have.”
The words sting. They’re supposed to.
“I’m sorry.” The apology feels inadequate. Two words for hours of pain, for a five-hour drive in the middle of the night, for making him chase me across the state. “I’m so sorry, Levi. I saw that photo and I just…I panicked. I convinced myself it was real because...”
“Because you were looking for proof,” he finishes. “You were waiting for evidence that this was too good to be true.”
I want to deny it. But I can’t.
“He’s not wrong,” I admit. “Every time something good happens, I wait for it to fall apart.And when Penelope showed me that photo, it was like…confirmation. Like the universe was finally proving what I’d known all along.”
“That I would cheat on you?”
“That I wasn’t enough.” My voice cracks. “You’d find someone who doesn’t run away every time she gets scared.”
Levi closes the distance between us. His hands cup my face, tilting it up so I have to look at him.
“You’re an idiot,” he says.
Not exactly the romantic declaration I was expecting.
“I know...”
“No, listen.” His thumbs brush away tears I didn’t realize were falling. “You’re an idiot because you think I want shiny. Some pop star who hugs me for cameras and cares more about album sales than actual human connection. That I drove all this way on no sleep because I want someone better.”
“Levi...”
“I want you. The florist who argues with me about coffee and talks to her dog like he’s a person and makes me laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met.” He pulls me closer. “I don’t want perfect. I want real. And you’re the realest thing I’ve ever found.”
I’m crying for real now. The messy kind that makes your nose run and your face blotchy.
“I’m going to mess this up again,” I tell him. “You know that, right? I’m going to get scared and want to run.”
“Probably.”
