Page 123 of Cherry Picking

“I do, so just listen.” I set my bag down on a chair. “The part about you shutting people out? I meant that. I’d say it again sober. You know I’m right.”

“You are.”

“I wanted the other stuff to hurt you, though.” My voice thins out, losing its edge. “Using your past like that was a cheap shot.” I force myself to meet his steady gaze. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that in person. And I know ignoring you all this time was childish, but I didn’t know what to say.”

He moves across the hardwood, stopping just inside the perimeter of my space. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s close enough that I have to tilt my chin to keep his eyes.

“You don’t owe me an apology for any of it,” he says gruffly. “I told you this before, but I want to say it properly.”

“Is it about that green dress again?”

He chuckles. “It’s about how I pulled away from you because you’re like medicine to me. Being around you, talking to you—hell, even thinking about you—it makes the static stop. I couldn’t allow that because I didn’t want to feel better. I wanted to stay in the dark because that’s what I felt like I deserved. But you didn’t deserve to be shut out. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“And you don’t deserve to treat yourself like that, either.”

He blows out a heated breath. “I should’ve been straight with you about the contract situation before the deadline noise started.”

I frown. “I didn’t even know leaving Charlotte was on the table.”

“It isn’t anymore. Ted wanted me to test the market, but I’m finished with that.”

“So what happens next?”

“I just signed with a new agent. We’re hoping to negotiate a long-term deal with the Kings. I want to stay put for a while, but I want to know if you’d be okay with that. If you’d consider being with me either way.”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth. “Even with the distance?”

“I want all of you, Evie. But I’m not going to lie and say I’ve got it all figured out.”

I blink, my heart thumping against my ribs. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve been talking this through with my therapist for weeks, so just let me get the words out.” He exhales slowly. “Disappearing on Ophelia wasn’t a choice I made. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to leave. I just crawled into my own head and stayed there until four years had vanished and there was nothing left.”

“That wasn’t your fault. She still cheated on you, Briggs.”

“She and Zig were sick and lonely. They had each other when I wasn’t there.”

The word snags on the way past. “Sick?”

“They were drinking. A lot.”

I have to look at the dark skyline to find my bearings. They were alcoholics. That’s what Ophelia must’ve finally told him last month. But that doesn’t make him a villain any more than it makes them monsters.

“That doesn’t mean you’re to blame.”

“No, but I did stop paying attention.” His eyes soften. “If I stood here and promised I’d never do it again, you’d be smart to walk away, because I wouldn’t believe it, either. What I can promise is that I’ll build a life where I’m not allowed to hide. You can tell me. If I start going quiet or handling things alone, you call me on it, and I promise to hear you the first time.”

I’d braced myself for the performative version—the polished, easy script about being a changed man. The fact that he’s refusing to offer the lie is surprisingly so much better.

“That’s the deal?” I ask softly.

“It isn’t a fairy tale, I’m aware.”

“No,” I murmur, “it’s better. Fairy tales are for people who don’t live in the real world.”

The tension drains out of his frame. “Yeah? So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying let’s try. For real.” I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him an inch closer. “I’m going part-time at the funeral home next month. Tomás is giving me a chair. I’ll be drawing four days a week, and I can take a sketchbook anywhere I go.”