He didn’t sayanything else, and I spent all night, sitting awake in this stupid motel room with my parents on the other side of the wall, bouncing between anger and utter terror. How dare he think that a simple sorry is enough to make up for this? What if it’s not an apology, but a goodbye, instead? What if he gets tired of waiting, decides that all of this is too much trouble? Decides that I’m not worth it? I can’t stop staring at the screen, like that will somehow make things different.
Mom and Dad left to grab breakfast for all of us a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to join them.
Everything feels so raw, and the thought of feeling the sun on my skin makes me flinch. I want to cry, but I’m out of tears. I want to talk to Penny, but I have no idea what to say.
I want to talk to Bennett, but I’m back to not knowing if we’ll ever speak again.
A knock sounds at the door, and I push myself off the edge of the bed to let my parents inside. I don’t have much of an appetite, but they’ll worry if I don’t eat.
My stomach drops straight to the floor in panic when I swing the door open to find Bennett standing there, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the stems half crushed from how hard he’s gripping them. His eyes trail over every inch of me like he’s trying to assure himself that I’m real, and I do the same. He’s tense with anxiety, fidgeting every few seconds, and his jaw keeps twitching like he wants to say something.
I’ve never been so relieved to see someone in my life.
I’m half tempted to fall straight into his arms, but he holds the flowers out to me before I can move. He doesn’t quite meet my eyes, nerves practically radiating off him. I take them from his shaking hand, and my heart stutters when I realize what they are.
Magnolias.
He got me magnolias.
I want to cry even more now.
“I know I said I’d wait,” he says, the words coming out rushed with his nerves, but those pretty blue eyes finally meet mine. All his anxiety and hope swims in them, and I know it’s mirrored in my own. “I will. I’m not trying to rush you, I just… I needed to see you. Needed to make sure you didn’t leave. We don’t have to talk yet, but I need you to know that life doesn’t feel right without you at my side. I need you to know I’m serious about this. About us. You could take forever, and I’d still be here waiting.”
The words slam straight through me, and I swallow back the tears that threaten to fall. He’s here, looking at me with so much affection even though I must be a mess after not sleeping, and I’m struck with the realization that there’s nothing for him to wait for.
I’ve already made my decision. I think I made it before I even got on the plane to Lubbock.
It’s him or nothing.
“You said you were sorry,” I whisper, clutching the flowers just as tightly as he was.
It’s not quite that simple, but it all comes down to that, doesn’t it? An apology. A fresh start. A need to make this work, no matter what. I feel stupid for even worrying that his text last night could have been a goodbye.
“I am. Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Magnolia.” The words rush out of him like a flood, tumbling over his lips even as he dips his head in shame. “I’m an idiot, and I freaked out, and I should’ve told you what I wanted from the start. Should’ve told you everything. I—the pregnancy—my ex, Chelsea, she?—”
“Your mom told me.” I cut him off, stepping forward and resting my head against his chest, desperate for the closeness. “You don’t have to explain.”
“Iwantto explain,” he says, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “I want you to hear it from me, Magnolia. I want you to know I trust you.”
My heart twinges in my chest at the admission, and I wind my arms around his waist, holding him close. It probably looks silly to be embracing like this in the still open doorway of the motel room, but it feels so right. Everything with him feels right.
“I’ll listen,” I say softly. “Let’s walk for a little. I don’t want Mom and Dad to interrupt us. I’ll text them and tell them I went to get some air so they don’t worry.”
He nods in agreement, but it takes us a long minute to properly separate. Even when we do, I don’t let go of his hand, gripping it so tightly that it hurts a little, just to be certain he can’t go anywhere. He doesn’t seem to mind, holding me just as tightly as he steps back. I pull the door shut behind us beforetapping out a quick text to my parents with the hand still holding my flowers.
As soon as I’m done, all of my attention is back on him.
The morning sunlight is soft on his features, warm and gentle over the arch of his nose and the jut of his chin. I’m struck with the desire to trace kisses over every inch of his face, but I can wait. This talk is important.
“Tell me, Bennett,” I say softly, leaning against his shoulder as we walk. “I want to hear it all from you.”
It takes him a little to start talking, and I let my eyes wander, taking in the displays in shop windows and the little snippets of conversation I catch from people passing us. The fresh air is miles better than the stale, recirculated motel AC, and I find myself smiling at the chipper little noises the birds overhead make as the city bustles around us. It’s a normal day in a normal world for everyone else, and that makes it a million times easier to settle my racing heart.
If the world goes on for everyone else, surely it can go on for us too.
He steers me toward a sprawling park, trees dotting the landscape as kids run their parents ragged in the open spaces. Dogs run along the edge of the pond, barking happily as they play. It feels so homey, soright, and I want this with him forever.
“Chelsea was horrible to me.” He says without preamble, his voice soft even with the bitterness that underlies his words. “We spent all of high school together, and I was head over heels for her, followed her around like a puppy. The two of us and my old best friend were never apart, and I thought things were perfect. Lived in my own little bubble where nothing was ever wrong, even though Ma kept trying to tell me that something didn’t feel right.”
