Chapter 23 #4
He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “Mostly I’m grateful you said yes to seeing me.” He cuts a small piece of tomato, fresh basil, and burrata, and drags his fork through the oil-balsamic reduction. He lifts it to my mouth.
His eyes spark as he watches the fork disappear into my mouth.
I let my eyes flutter closed and moan as I chew. On purpose, of course.
“It’s gonna be a while before I get to hear that sound for the right reasons, isn’t it?” Tristan asks softly.
“You weren’t very nice last time, so yeah.” No point in pretending I’m over how that ended.
“I’m sorry I was such a dick.” He cuts another bite but doesn’t make a move to eat it.
“Do you want to explain why you were?”
“I knew you would move out eventually. I just didn’t expect it to happen like it did. I thought maybe you needed space after Flip found out. I didn’t want to make things worse, and then you were packing and I couldn’t stop you from leaving me,” he admits.
His phrasing is everything, I realize. “To be fair, you had an entire week to talk to me about Flip finding out and how you wanted to deal with it.” If we’re ever going to move past this, he has to own how awful he was, and I need him to understand that I can’t allow that to happen, not ever again.
He sips his beer, then takes a hefty gulp. “I did try.”
“To get me into bed. Not to talk,” I point out.
“That night Flip brought those two women home, I said you could sleep in my room, though.” His knee is bouncing again.
“You didn’t correct me when I asked if you planned to drown out their moans with mine.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. I desperately want him to open up, to give me something to work with. To show me he cares enough to try, even if it makes him uncomfortable.
He looks like he wants to bolt. His gaze darts to the side, and his fingers go to his lips.
He looks like a scared boy, not a badass hockey player.
“If that was what you wanted, I would have done that. But that wasn’t how I meant it.
I didn’t want you to have to listen and think about how I’d been involved the last time.
I didn’t want that shoved in your face.”
“Why didn’t you say that, then?”
“I started to, but you were so upset with me.” He pushes a piece of tomato around his plate. “You were always going to leave. I didn’t want you to. But if I asked you to stay and you said no… I couldn’t handle that. And I would fuck things up again eventually. I always do.”
It’s heartbreaking the way he holds on to blame, like everything was his fault. Like he’s the problem, when really the whole thing was doomed from the start.
“You didn’t even give it a chance, Tristan. You told Flip all we were doing was fucking.”
“Because that’s what we agreed on.” His jaw works. He looks so uncomfortable.
“But was it the truth?” I ask.
He shakes his head. His gaze lifts, and his voice is barely a whisper. “I have feelings for you. And not just I-want-to-fuck-you feelings. I have a lot of those, but I have other feelings, too.”
“You were awful to me when I moved out.”
He drops his head and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You treated me like I meant nothing to you.”
His swallow is audible. “You were leaving me, and I couldn’t get you to stay. It hurt, and I couldn’t handle it.”
“So you hurt me back?”
His head snaps up, and his eyes go wide.
I hold up a hand. “Not physically. With your actions and your words. You were cruel.”
He drops his head again. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”
“It’s about more than that, Tristan. You discarded me.
You treated me like I meant nothing to you, and it gutted me.
It wasn’t just about the sex. It was how easily you turned off your feelings.
You made me feel used. Do you understand how awful that was?
You can’t do that to me again. Not ever.
I won’t stand for it. I deserve better.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and do that differently.
” He wrings his hands, then hides them under the table.
“I hated myself for what I did and how I acted. Everything was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But I care about you, Bea. A lot. More than I know what to do with sometimes. It scares the shit out of me.”
And there he is, that broken boy I’ve come to know well. “I care about you, too.”
“Yeah?” The way his face brightens with hope makes my chest ache.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. That’s good.” He fidgets with his fork. “I, uh, I was hoping you’d want to do more of this after tonight.” He motions between us and almost knocks his glass over.
“More talking and dinners?” I won’t make this easy for him.
“Yeah. Exactly. We don’t always have to go out for dinner, though. We can hang out and not just naked hanging out. But we could do that, too. Whenever you’re ready.”
“So you want to go on dates?”
“If you do, yeah.”
The table is jiggling like there’s a low-level earthquake happening under it. For as cocky as he is in the bedroom and on the ice, he’s definitely unsure of himself off of it.
“We can go on more dates.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up, and my heart clenches.
“Yeah.”
We spend the rest of dinner talking about the upcoming games, and my job, and how he misses hanging out with me in the kitchen while I prep food and all the other little things he’d gotten used to with me living there.
At the end of the night, Tristan offers me his arm as we go down the stairs. He opens the car door and helps me with my dress. Instead of dropping me off at the front door, he parks and walks me to the elevators.
“I’m not inviting you in tonight,” I inform him as we get in the elevator.
He nods. “I know. I want to make sure you get in okay. And I want every minute I can get with you.” He leans against the mirrored-glass railing as we ascend, and I fidget with my purse strap. The doors open, and he laces our hands as we walk down the hall.
“I had a nice time tonight. Thank you for dinner, and the flowers, and for opening up.”
“I…I know I’m bad at it, but I’m trying to be better. For you.” His bottom lip slides through his teeth. “Thank you for agreeing to a date.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would it be okay if I hug you? Please?”
I nod, and he wraps his arms around me. He presses his face against my neck and shamelessly sniffs me. “I missed you so much, Bea. So fucking much.”
“I missed you, too.” I rest my cheek against his chest. “Especially this version of you.”
He holds me for a long time. Eventually he pulls back, swallowing thickly. “I know I’m probably pushing it, and maybe you’re not ready yet, but can I kiss you good night?”
My heart clenches—hell, everything clenches. “I would like that.”
“Cheek or…” He trails off.
I tap my lips.
His fingertips drift from my temple to my chin, and he tenderly cups my cheek.
He tips my head back and lowers his mouth to mine, just a soft brush of lips at first. His arm winds around my waist, pulling me against him as he angles his head and I do the same.
I part my lips, and his tongue strokes inside on a quiet groan.
I grip the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering as my body warms and I feel his erection against my stomach.
He adjusts his grip, and his palm settles against my throat.
But still, the kiss is soft. An apology.
A promise of what could be. I’m afraid to hope for more than this.
But I want to try. I want to see what this can be outside of the secret bubble we were living in.
He ends the kiss before it grows heated and brushes his nose against mine. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can to deserve you.” He pulls me in for another long hug.
I melt into him. Into possibility. Into what this might become.
Eventually he pulls back. “Can I see you again soon?”
“I’d like that.” His smile is so boyishly charming, I almost invite him in so I can sit on his face.
“Can I call you tomorrow?”
“That’d be great.”
“Night, Beatrix.” He kisses my hand and steps back.
“Night, Tristan.” I manage to get inside the apartment without pulling him along with me. My vagina is confused, but my heart is happy.