Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
He swallows thickly, holding back emotion that’s already shining in his glossy eyes. “I know it’s selfish, but I just needed—” his last word is choked and he throws his head back, covering his face again and cursing.
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not, though. You asked me for time and I’m afraid if I give it to you, I’ll lose you forever.”
His confession knocks me completely off-balance and I pull my hand back only a fraction, but he’s quick to grab it, holding on to it. Our eyes meet, the pain between us palpable, each of us afraid of losing the other.
It’s quiet, too quiet as all pretenses leave us and I usher out the confession I know is going to tear us apart. “I love you, but I think I love him too.”
Never in a million years would I have thought he’d respond the way he does. “I know.” He licks his bottom lip, taking in a slow, steadying breath. “I know, and that’s why I shouldn’t have come, but I love you.”
Tears slip out from the corners of my eyes and I have to pull my hand away to wipe them as I attempt to gather myself and calm my racing thoughts.
My chest rises and falls with staggered breaths and I reach for my tea, focusing on it rather than Robert’s apology when he says, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder. I’m sorry I … I’m sorry I wasn’t better, Mags. If I could go back,” he starts and I murmur his name in a plea for him to stop. He does.
“I’m sorry too,” I manage to get out and without taking a sip of the now warm tea, I set it back down, sniffling and steadying myself. I am grateful for honesty, even if it doesn’t help a darn thing. I can feel him slipping away, the distance between us growing even though neither of us dares to move.
“I shouldn’t have come over, but I couldn’t just let him—” Robert stops himself from finishing whatever he was going to say.
“Him. Him as in Brody?” I ask to clarify and I’m almost certain I know what he was going to say.
Brody changes everything, and it feels like my heart’s breaking all over again.
“I’ve been trying to do the right thing. It’s just … I can’t not love you, Mags. I tried. As fucked up as it sounds, I tried to not love you when you told me you didn’t want me. When you—” He stops abruptly, not completing his thought. Slowly, his pale blue eyes meet mine and he admits to me, “I tried to not love you once and it killed me. I can’t do it, Mags. Even if you love him too, I can’t help loving you.”
Robert’s never been a man of emotion. He is logic and reason. He is comfort without needing to say a word. Yet here he is, laying bare things I wish he would have said so long ago.
“What can I do?” He’s always helped me. Even when I hated myself and when I didn’t have anything at all to give him in return, he came through. There’s not a lot of people in the world who can say they have someone like that. To see him like this utterly shreds me. “What can I do so that you don’t stop loving me?”
“I don’t think I could ever not have love for you,” I speak slowly. The way I said have love, seems to strike him.
“I’m sorry about … the other night.”
Before I can tell him it’s all right and that I’m sorry too, before I can explain how it caught me off guard, he heaves in a deep breath, noticeably distressed and adds, “I don’t want you to hate me again. I need you.”
“I’ve never hated you,” I speak over him, reaching out to him to stress that point as I shake my head in complete disagreement.
Robert doesn’t look me in the eyes although his strong hands wrap around mine, covering them with a warmth that’s absent between us.
I hate it all. I hate the way this feels and I just want it to stop. I used to think when you love someone, seeing them in pain is the worst thing in the world. But it’s not. When you love someone, the worst thing is when you’re aware that you’re the one putting them in pain. It’s an awful feeling, so awful I imagine it’s what death feels like. “Why does this feel like goodbye?” I manage to speak and I wish I hadn’t said it out loud, but I suppose we’re being honest tonight.
“I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want there to be anything …” his voice hitches slightly before he pauses and I can tell he’s holding back.