“Vivienne.” His voice rolls over my body, heating my skin.
I swallow, reminding myself to keep calm. Yosef messaged me when they entered the garage, and I’ve been kneeling in position since then. The correct position, as he put it before. On my knees, legs spread, ass pressed against my heels and my hands palm down.
His polished shoes show up in my view and a new sort of pain shoots through me. Panic really. What if this doesn’t work? What if I waited too long to tell him how much I want him. How much I need him.
“Vivienne, what are you doing here?” His command is firm when he adds, “don’t look at the floor, look at me.”
Digging my fingertips into my knee, I tilt my head back until my gaze meets his heated stare. He hasn’t shaved in days. His jawline is covered in an unruly, thick beard. His hair stands on end in places, as though he’s been tugging at the edges.
He looks tired.
I lick at my dry lips. “I thought I knew what I would say when I saw you. I had a whole thing planned, but– I can’t remember any of it.”
He lifts an eyebrow and waits.
“I’m sorry.” I breathe the words. “And not just for the mess with Kieran, for everything. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you. That I didn’t want this.”
“You needed space,” he says, reaching out and brushing his fingertips across my cheek. “I demanded more than you could give?—”
“No.” I stop him. “You didn’t. You pushed me, yes. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized how much more to life there really is. I wouldn’t have realized that I could be happy again, that I could find love again.”
He crouches in front of me. The spice of his cologne warms my senses. It’s like walking into your house after school and smelling a batch of cookies pulled fresh from the oven. An aromatic hug.
“I was scared, Ivan. Afraid of what being with you could do to me, because if I lost you…” I drag in a shaky breath. “I was afraid of loving you and afraid of losing you, and in the end, I did both.”
Capturing my face between his hands, he presses his forehead against mine. “So much fear for such a brave girl.”
“I’m not brave.” I laugh softly. “I’m terrified.”
“Being scared and living anyway—that’s bravery.” He wipes the tears rolling down my cheeks away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I caused you so much pain these last few days.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough to go straight to you.” I grab hold of his wrists, needing a connection linking us to each other. “I can’t be afraid of what might happen anymore. Maybe something horrible will happen to us, and maybe it won’t. But I don’t want to give up on all the love we can have right now.”
“I love you, Vee.” He brushes his lips across mine softly. “Fuck, I love you so much.”
And then he kisses me.
Slowly. Deeply. Not with hunger or urgency, but with absolution.
His mouth moves against mine like he’s trying to rewrite the last days, trying to rid our memories of the pain we caused each other, to heal the crack we created. There’s no rush, no frenzied movement, just the steadiness of his love.
His fingers tangle in my hair, not to possess me—though he does, so very thoroughly—but to anchor us here in this moment, in this quiet collision of our souls and hearts.
And when I kiss him back, it’s not just because I forgive him the days of silence. It’s because he forgives me, too.
And that’s love.
The ugly of it.
The beauty of it.
The truth of it.
In the early morning, with the sunlight peeking through the drapes, I lie with my cheek resting on his bare chest. His heart beats a steady rhythm beneath my ear.
We’ve barely slept. How could we when we had four nights to make up for? Now, as we lie together, tangled up in the sheets, sated and exhausted, silence fills the room. I’ve never felt such calm. It’s like he’s slayed all the demons that have been barreling down on me over the past four years.
Except maybe one.
