Page 11 of The Song We Lost

I close the laptop slowly, like I’m putting something fragile away. “It’s the compound,” I say. “The orchard. The property back home.”

His brow furrows. “You mean the idea?”

“It’s not an idea anymore.”

That gets his attention.

He drags a hand through his hair, already overwhelmed. “Okay. Maybe we don’t do this right now. I just got here. Can we...” He gestures vaguely between us. “Can we not jump straight into… everything?”

Everything.That word hangs between us like a warning.

“You didn’t come here to talk?” I ask quietly.

What did he expect?

What did I expect?

He exhales, frustration flickering across his face before guilt replaces it. “That’s not what I meant. I just... Bailey, I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. I hate that I did. I never meant for it to get this bad.”

I laugh once, sharp and humourless. “You nevermeanto. That’s the problem. But here we are.”

He steps closer, “I am trying to make something of myself. For us. For our families.”

“I know,” I say. And God, I do. That’s what makes it hurt.

“I just need one shot,” he continues. “One chance to prove I can do this on my own.”

“And where does that leave me?” I ask.

Waiting again. Always waiting.

He opens his mouth and then closes it. The silence stretches.

“I was sitting right here last night alone after the award show, while other people were celebrating my success, while people were speculating about my life… about you,” I say, pressing my palm to the island. “I was sitting here alone, trying to figure out if this is what marriage is supposed to feel like. Trying to figure out how it all went wrong with us.”

His face crumples, “I don’t want to lose you,” he says. “I can’t.”

“You already are,” I whisper.

Something in him snaps then, not anger, but fear. I see it play out in his eyes. He closes the distance between us, hands cupping my face like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go. “I love you,” he says urgently. “I love you so much it scares the hell out of me. It has only ever been you, Bailey. I have loved you my whole life.... I... I don’t know how we got so off track, but I swear to you, I’m trying. I am going to try.”

I search his eyes for something solid. Something new, but all I see is familiarity. All I hear are the same words.

“I asked Rachel about divorce lawyers,” I say, the words tasting bitter and unreal. “I didn’t call one. I just… needed to know what my options were.”

He goes still, and for a moment, he looks like the boy I fell in love with so many years ago.

“You were going to leave me?”

“I was trying to figure out how much longer I could keep feeling like this,” I say. “I cannot keep living like this, Luke.”

He pulls me into his chest before I can step back, holding me too tight, like pressure might fuse us together again.

“No,” he says, voice breaking. “No, don’t do that. Don’t give up on us. Not now. Not when I’m finally on my way. I know it, Bailey. You have to give me more time, another chance, please, Sunshine.”

His use of my childhood nickname brings tears to my eyes, and then his mouth finds mine before I can respond. The kiss is frantic.Messy. All teeth and breath and need. It feels less like desire and more like survival. I kiss him back because I miss him. Because my body remembers how much I love him. Because part of me still believes that if we cantouchenough, maybe we won’t have to talk, we won't be over.

He lifts me, carrying me toward the couch like he’s done a hundred times before, like this is muscle memory etched intoboth of us. My legs wrap around his waist without thinking, my forehead pressed to his as if staying this close might keep everything else from crashing in.