Page 68 of All The Ways to Miss You

“Not even worried about it. Except that we need a rematch.” His eyebrows pop up.

“Why do you need a rematch if you’re so certain you’ll win?”

“It’s not about winning. It’s because I want to spend more time with you, friend.”

An unwanted zap of excitement races through me. Ignoring the comment, I focus on my glass of water, chugging the rest. After I place it on the end table, I press my hands between my knees and broach a subject I’ve been avoiding.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Part of it.” He lifts the remote and presses a button. The screen pauses and the room falls silent.

“So talk,” I say, though I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear. But as it turns out, facing my fear isn’t always a bad thing. Even if it’s hard, even if I have a panic attack, something good may come out of it.

He slides his palms over his thighs, appearing antsy and unsure. “There are things I want to tell you, but some of it may not matter in the long run. What I can share today is . . . I was wrong.”

“I like where this is going.” I turn to him and fold my legs beneath me, anchoring one elbow on the back of the sofa.

He places a hand over mine where it rests on my thigh. When the warmth of him spreads across my skin, I twist my fingers with his. My skin tingles, and I squeeze tight.

He looks down at our joined hands. “I was wrong about us. The truth is, it wasn’t you I was worried about not being able to deal with a one-night stand. It was me.” His voice breaks as he stumbles over his words. “Because of my past . . . I was worried I may not be able to handle it. And instead of admitting that, I put it on you. A crappy move, but yeah. And I was right. I couldn’t deal. I want you to know it was one of the best nights of my life, and I’d like more of them with you. I’d like more of everything with you, Cait.”

My chest feels fluttery. I should focus on the fact that he’s telling me he’s into me. Instead, I’m curious about the woman he can’t forget. The only other person he’s been with. The one whose picture probably hangs on his wall a few feet away.

But does it matter? Does she matter? She’s not here, and I am.

“So, what does it mean?” I can’t bring my gaze to meet his.

“I guess it doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to.”

I swallow. There it is. I can have it all. All the fantasizing about him I’ve been doing can become a reality. Evan’s giving himself to me. All I have to do is take him.

Can I do this? Can I tell him about my past? Will it matter to him that part of my life is missing? Will he want to deal with the panic attacks, the depression, the crying, and the overbearing parents?

If I were Evan, I wouldn’t. How can I ask someone to accept them when I can barely stand them myself? How can I imagine a future with him when I know very little about my own past? There’s a lifetime of good and bad that made me who I am, and I don’t even know what those things are. I can’t explain why I do anything. I have no frame of reference for any decision I make.

His mouth draws tight before he continues. “I don’t expect a response. You’ve already told me what you wanted from this, but I needed to tell you where I stand. And I’m sorry for being such an ass.”

I nod. What I want to tell him is I lied a little too. I lied to myself. If I could brush aside my drama, I’d very much like to see where this goes. This is what I wanted after our first night. A chance. And now he wants to give us one. I’m scared of what will happen if I give in to him, and I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t.

“Can we . . .” I pause to find the words that will make sense. Instead of words, I curl my body into his and place my head on his shoulder. I’m close enough I can hear his breathing and watch the rise and fall of his chest. I place my hand over his thumping heart.

He drops his arm around my back and folds me into his body heat before kissing my forehead. My skin ignites at his touch, but this is enough. I only need us to be who we are right now. No commitments, no explanations, only discovering each other as the moments arise.

He increases the volume for the next movie. It’s one a.m., and we’re back to his choice. “You’ll love this one,” he says. The title, Spaceballs, appears on the screen.

In the middle of the night, I wake to an arm draped over my waist. I turn and find Evan sleeping peacefully. He must have carried me to his bed.

I reach out to touch his face. Brushing his stubble beneath my palm wakes him, and his hooded eyes open. I slide closer, forcing our breath to commingle and our knees to touch. When he rubs his hand down my back, I sigh.

All the good things I have are because I listened to my heart—moving and taking a job in Chicago, befriending Aggie, and finding Ozzy. I need to believe Evan can be part of the good too. That all of those things combined can give me a beautiful future while my mind reconstructs my past and navigates a way to open my heart. It’s scary, yes, but I often find my bravery in the inky darkness of the night. I blame the glittering gems dotting the sky. The stars make me believe I can do anything.

I softly touch my lips to his. I’m giving in to what I’ve been denying myself—true happiness. This is real. Evan is real. We are real.

Tonight, we only kiss. Accepting who he is to me, I feel no rush to push forward. We have plenty of time to get to know each other, and I need to take this slowly. When we make love again, I want it to be like it’s the very first time. And when it happens, I want it to be real love. Not lust. Not pretend.

We spoon, thighs against thighs. My hips press into the curve of his pelvis. His hand reaches over my stomach, tucking me tight. His chin rests on my shoulder where he blows across my ear, rustling my hair. It tickles my cheek as we drift back asleep.

It’s early when I sneak out of Evan’s bed and return to my apartment to shower and dress. At six a.m., I step into the lobby of my office building. Just as the doors to the elevators begin to slide closed without me, I thrust an arm between them. The sensor dings and the doors divide again, but I hold my breath when I see who’s inside.