He doesn’t move. Doesn’t wave. Just stands there.
My heart forgets how to work.
I walk to the door on legs that feel like they don’t belong to me and flip the lock.
The click sounds. He steps inside.
For a moment, we just study each other. He looks different. Not lighter exactly. Not fixed. But… steadier. Like something inside him finally stopped bracing for impact.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” I answer, just as quietly.
His eyes flick to the counter, then back to me. “I wanted to thank you,” he says. “For the letter. For… everything. For not giving up on me when I wasn’t capable of being anything other than broken.”
I swallow. “How’s Ivy?”
A softness crosses his face that still makes my chest ache.
“She’s good. Better every day.” A pause. “Maddison’s good too…she can’t thank you enough. We’re… figuring it out. The new version of what we are.”
He hesitates, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.
“I’m not here to reopen old wounds,” he says after a moment. “And I’m not here to pretend I didn’t make mistakes. I did. A lot of them.”
My heart starts to pound.
“I’m here because I finally understand something,” he continues. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I was avoiding the part of myself that wanted to believe I could still have something good.”
He looks at me then. Really looks at me.
“I don’t want to do that anymore.”
The silence between us feels fragile. Important. I can’t break it.
“I don’t know how to do this perfectly,” he says. “But I do know that I want to try. With you. Not as a man running from his past. Not as someone hiding behind walls. Just… as me.”
My throat tightens.
“And if you tell me you’re done, I’ll respect that.”
I stare at him for a long second. Then I say, “Definitely not done.”
His mouth curves into a look of relief.
I don’t think about it. I step into him.
He wraps his arms around me slowly and rests his forehead against mine. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I answer.
He kisses me.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Completely.
