“But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve regretted it,” he goes on. “Not just how I left you, but the fact that I did in the first place.”
Well, I wasn’t expectingthat. My shock must be written across my face, because he takes that moment to uncross his legs and lean forward. If we were closer, I get the feeling he’d try to sweep me into his arms like the hero from a telenovela.
“Imissyou, Stella,” he says, just above a whisper. “Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life.”
The impact of the words pushes me back in my seat, but I don’t actually believe what he’s saying. He was out with another woman two weeks after our breakup—he couldn’t have missed me or regretted his choicesthatmuch if he could move on so quickly.
Then again, didn’t I do the same? Sure, mine was all in response to his shenanigans, but I still moved on with my life in the form of accidentally marrying Thomas.
Étienne seems to be waiting for me to say something. “I appreciate you saying that,” I force out, but truthfully, I’m lost for words.
There’s a strong chance he’s lying to me, but he could also be telling the truth. I really don’t know. And yet…it doesn’t matter which one it is, because even if I haven’t been able to admit it to myself until now, I’ve been done with this man for a long, long time.
He’s not satisfied with my answer, though. The next thing I know, he’s on the floor in front of me, down on his knees as hegrabs my hands. A surprised “Oh shit, okay, here we go” leaves my lips, but it doesn’t deter him any.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he declares, gazing up at me like I’m his sun and moon and stars. “I shouldn’t have said that to you and I shouldn’t have left.”
He’s talking, but I’m still not hearing the wordsI’m sorry. Instead, I’m getting the dramatic performance of a lifetime.
“We should start over.” It’s a statement, not a question, as if he expects me to get swept up in his whirlwind. “We can put all of this behind us. It would be a shame to waste all the history we have together, wouldn’t it?”
Maybe you should have thought about that before you did what you did, buddy, I want to tell him, but I’m too busy trying not to shudder from secondhand embarrassment. Like, honestly…is this man for fucking real? Does he really think this is going to have me crawling back to him, all because we have “history”?
I pull my left hand from his grasp and hold it up so he can see the ring on my finger. “I’m married, Étienne. There’s nostarting overfor you and me.”
He scoffs, some of the act falling away. “I’ve heard your marriage isn’t real,” he says, and there’s a hint of a threat in it that I absolutely do not care for. “That you met and got drunkenly married in the same night.”
Ding, ding, we have a winner!But just because he’s correct in his assumption doesn’t mean he knows anything about what’s happened between Thomas and me since then.
“Maybe you need to stop listening to rumors,” I shoot back, tempted to toe him in the ribs to get him to stand up. “Because my marriage is very much real.”
In fact, I have the marriage certificate to prove it, sitting right on the kitchen counter, because Drunk Stella wrote downthis address when filling out the license. When I opened it earlier and saw my name printed next to Thomas’s, I cried because I missed him. Less than twenty-four hours apart and my ass was bawling.
If the certificate isn’t enough to prove that it’s real, then what I feel for Thomas is the smoking gun.
“Stella, you barely know the man.” Étienne drops his voice, low and persuasive. “Be the smart woman I know you are and come home.”
It strikes a chord deep in my chest. I want to go home. Desperately. But this isn’t my home anymore. I don’t think it was ever more than just a place I lived until I found where I belonged.
My home is in London with a man who knows I prefer gold jewelry. Who holds my hand even when my fingers are freezing. Who outfitted his whole kitchen with my favorite appliances in my favorite color and requested that I make the place a mess. Who let me leave to handle the things haunting me, because he would never stand in my way.
The life I built in DC was a beautiful one—until it all came crashing down. And I don’t want to rebuild it on top of the ashes. I want that fresh start Étienne was talking about, just…not with him. I want it with Thomas. I want us to begin again as if none of this is fake. No rules or guidelines or mandates to follow. Just us. Together. Whatever that looks like.
“I’m getting to know him,” I answer, tugging my other hand away so I can grab my phone. I’ve got a flight to book. “And I’m going to keep doing it.”
Étienne lets out a mocking laugh and sits back on his heels. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m a very serious woman, Étienne,” I say as gravely as I can, though I’m seconds away from grinning in his face. “You know, you actually did me a huge favor.”
His face contorts in confusion. “Excuse me?”
I nod and stand. It’s like a thousand tons have lifted from my shoulders. “You left when I couldn’t,” I explain. “Don’t expect me to say thank you, but it’s the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”
He makes a sound of offense, like he can’t believe I’d ever be grateful that he did what he did. And while I don’t love it, and I’ll certainly carry the scars for the rest of my life, this really was for the best. He was never the man I was meant to be with. I just hope the one I want will wait a little bit longer for me.
Because I’m coming home.
Chapter 33
