37. THE TIMELINE OF MISSING YOU
THE TIMELINE OF MISSING YOU
Icalled reinforcements.
Now, I’m back at my penthouse with Emerson sitting on my couch and me pacing in front of him.
He already knows all the details of what we’re assuming is my time travel experience.
I’ve even mentioned that I don’t think this is our first round of it.
He’s not even a little fazed. He believes me blindly, and I wish Kenneth would too.
It makes me wonder if it’s all been in my head—him loving me.
Surely he wouldn’t be able to fake it for this long, but if that’s true, then why won’t he fucking consider that I’m telling him the truth?
That’s what hurts the most, that he won’t even consider it.
He just walked out on me, not even telling me when he’d be back.
If he’d be back. Logically, I know it’s his apartment, but does this mean he broke up with me? Not knowing is killing me.
I grip my hair with both hands and tighten my fingers until my scalp stings; the pain grounds me slightly.
Barely. I don’t think anything short of him coming back to me will make this better.
Emerson is quiet on the couch, watching me carefully.
He knows I’m on the verge of a breakdown, but he’s not saying anything.
I don’t think he will until it’s absolutely necessary.
He’s waiting me out. He wants me to talk, and I haven’t.
I’m embarrassed. I don’t even know how to tell him that I confessed everything, and now I look crazy.
It’s embarrassing. It’s also heartbreaking.
“What’s going on?” Emerson asks calmly. I guess he’s tired of waiting me out. Can’t say I blame him. I’m not sure I’d actually initiate this conversation otherwise.
“Ken—” I gasp, my chest aching. It feels tight and painful. Like I’m suffocating. “Ken left me.”
Em frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“He asked me to move in with him a few hours ago, and I ended up telling him everything.” His brows dip as he tries to understand what it is I told him. “And he didn’t believe me.”
His eyes widen. “You told him about your past life together?”
“Yes,” I cry, tears streaming down my face. “I was so fucking stupid. He said I needed help, Em. Like I’m fucking crazy—”
“Fuck. Him.”
“And then he left me,” I sob, wiping my tears with my shirt. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Conrad, no. You said something that, yes, is a little crazy, but he should’ve stuck around to hear the story.” Emerson’s eyes plead with me not to argue. “He never should’ve left you or called you crazy. I kind of hate the asshole right now.”
I shake my head. “I can’t hate him. I mean, imagine someone telling you that you lived a whole six months and you can’t even remember it? I’d freak out too, I think.”
“Yeah, maybe. But you wouldn’t leave him over it. You’d figure it out together, Conrad, because you love him.”
My bottom lip wobbles. “Are you saying he doesn’t love me?” I take a deep breath and brace myself for him to confirm my biggest fear.
“I think—”
Ding.
My spine jerks, and I straighten, looking toward the elevator doors. I know who it is. The only person who would dare show up at two in the morning. I start walking in the direction of it when Emerson intercepts me, shoving me back toward the couch. I open my mouth to object, but he beats me to it.
“Don’t even think about it, Conrad,” Em growls, and I suck in a sharp breath. He’s upset. For me. He’s being protective. “I’m going to see what he wants, and if he’s going to make this worse, I’m kicking him out.”
“Don’t kick him out,” I beg him. “P-please. I need to see him.”
“Not if he’s going to hurt you more,” he replies with finality, then turns his back on me and walks to the doors Kenneth is walking through. I can see how he steels himself as he stands there, shoulders tight as he stares Kenneth down.
There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and I can’t see either of their faces from this angle, but I’m shaking with nerves. What if Kenneth decides it’s not worth it to go through Emerson and leaves instead? What will happen then? Will I survive that pain?
“I’m here to see Conrad,” Kenneth’s voice is firm. “I need to talk to him.”
“Unless you’re here to say you’re sorry for hurting him,” Emerson growls, “then you need to leave.”
“I—” Ken’s voice cracks, the first sign of this affecting him since he came in. “I need to talk to you, Connie. Please. Let me in.”
My tears are a waterfall now, but I stay rooted to the spot.
I don’t speak, and I don’t breathe, and I don’t dare move.
This hurts enough already; I don’t think I could handle it if he makes it even worse.
That’s why I say nothing. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for him to leave.
Maybe this is it. The last time we do this.
It’s possible we’re not meant to be, and the universe has been trying to tell us that.
And then if we end things, I won’t die. We won’t be together, and the universe will finally release its talons from my fucking throat.
“I l-love him,” Kenneth whispers to Emerson. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear this. “I need to talk to him. I made a mistake by leaving. I need to tell him that.”
Emerson sighs. “You really hurt him, Kenneth.”
Ken sobs. “I hurt myself, too. I can’t live without him. I’ll never be able to.”
My heart soars with those words, and I sway on my feet, my knees almost giving out on me. It’s everything I wanted to hear earlier, and I wish he was saying it to me. I don’t want to hear it secondhand, so I walk over to the door and shove Em aside.
“Conrad—” Emerson growls as I shove him harder to stand in front of Kenneth.
Kenneth’s face is red and puffy, his eyes sad and full of tears.
There are wet tracks on his cheeks, and his T-shirt is soaked in the front.
He’s been crying for a while, maybe the entire time we’ve been apart.
It breaks something inside of me to see him in pain.
Does it hurt him seeing me in pain, too?
“I-I’m sorry, baby.” Ken’s voice trembles. So do his bottom lip and hands. All of him is shaking. Is it fear? Is he scared I’ll be done? Doesn’t he know I could never move on from him? “Can we talk?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I’m confused,” Kenneth says softly. “I want to believe you, I just don’t know how to.”
I inhale sharply. “I know how it sounds, Ken.”
“I’m sorry I said those things. I should’ve listened to you. You deserve that much,” he whispers, reaching out and wiping a tear from under my eye. His fingers trail down my cheek, and he brushes my bottom lip with his thumb. It makes it wobble, and I bite down to keep it from doing so. “Please.”
“What?” I ask, not sure what he’s asking for.
“Please give me a chance to listen.” He looks directly at Emerson. “Alone.”
“Over my dead body,” Emerson snaps, and I grip his shoulder gently and squeeze once. He relaxes, then looks at me. I beg him with my eyes. “Fine,” he sighs. “I want you to call me when he leaves. I’ll be waiting by my phone all night, Conrad.”
“I won’t be leaving,” Ken says, raising his chin defiantly. “I’m staying the night.”
Emerson narrows his eyes. “I think that’s up to Conrad.”
“Em.” I clear my throat. “Can you just give us some privacy for a little while?”
“Promise you’ll update me, or I’m not leaving you.”
I sigh. “I promise.”
Emerson directs his gaze at Kenneth. “Don’t hurt him more, or I swear to god you’ll never see him again.”
Ken hiccups, then nods. “I understand.”
I turn around, lifting my shirt to wipe my face and nose, then let it fall back into place.
Taking deep breaths, I wait until I hear the elevator doors shut, but right as I’m about to turn around, arms envelop my waist tightly, and a warm body presses against my back.
Ken rests his cheek against me, and finally, finally, my breathing evens out, and I melt under his touch.
“I’m so sorry, Conrad,” Kenneth says softly, but I don’t really want to hear that right now. I need to feel his love for me, and I need him to show it to me. I don’t need words, I need actions. “I’ll do whatever it takes to show you how sorry I am.”
I unwrap his arms from around my waist and turn around, and his tear-filled eyes look into mine with confusion.
I walk him backward, pressing him against the wall, and wrap my hand around the back of his head, tugging on his hair until he’s looking up.
I bite his neck softly, then harder, wanting to leave my mark.
Ken shivers and moans, and it causes my cock to go hard.
I breathe through it, though, then trail my lips up to his jaw and nip it, then kiss it.
My mouth makes a journey from his cheek to his lips, and then I hover over them, unsure if I should close the distance between us.
Ken does it for us.
His lips slam to mine, hard yet soft, and we both groan.
I lick my way into his mouth, then stroke his tongue with mine, hoping the kiss heals me.
He shifts, deepening the kiss, then starts running his hands all over my body, as if he can’t get enough, like he doesn’t know where to touch me longest. It’s driving me crazy, and I growl, pushing him into the wall a little harder.
But he lets go of me, reaching behind himself for a moment, then pushes me away to break the kiss.
We’re both panting, and when he holds up the packet of lube he usually keeps in his wallet for us, I stop breathing.
I swallow hard, but take it. “Ken?”
“Need you,” he breathes, “Need you right now.”