I let the words settle. Let them exist.
Yes.
I needed him.
And maybe that wasn't weakness after all.
Maybe it was just love.
And I was done running from it.
Chapter twenty-six
Emma
The elevator doors opened.
He was standing in the middle of the living room, phone in hand, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Rumpled shirt. Hair disheveled. Gaze red-rimmed and hollow.
When he saw me, he went completely still.
"Emma."
My name came out on a breath.
"I went for a bagel," I said quietly. "I needed to think."
He didn't move. Didn't reach. Just stood there, tension vibrating through every line of his body.
"I called," he managed. "I left—"
"I know. I saw."
I set my bag down by the door.
Let him watch me. Let him wait. Because I still wasn't sure how to say what I needed to say.
"Emma." My name cracked from his lips. "If you want to leave—if this is too much—I understand. I won't—"
"I'm not leaving."
The words landed between us like a stone in still water.
His exhale was ragged. "You're not?"
"No." I crossed the room slowly, closing the distance he was too afraid to breach. "But we need to talk."
He nodded once. Sharp. Desperate. "Anything."
I stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the fear still flickering in his eyes. The guilt. The bone-deep exhaustion of a man who'd spent the night convinced he'd lost his life.
Good.
The word was halfway out of my mouth, but I swallowed it. Others took its place.
"Thank you."
He flinched like I'd struck him.
