37. The Confession
WEST
Fuck it. Eva’s about to walk out of my life forever, and it’s past time I stop playing it safe. I know she and I have to end, but it can’t be without her knowing how I feel.
Because it’s now or never.
“I’m sorry about tonight, Eva.” I clear my throat, willing my heart to stop smashing against my ribcage. “Being with you hurts too much because… well, because I’m in love with you.”
There. It’s out, and the words hang between us. I feel instantly freer.
I continue, “And not just now.” I shrug, releasing the weight I’ve been carrying for far too long. “But since day one. Well, almost day one—it was when you laughed at my ‘May the Fork Be With You’ apron.”
Her gaze holds mine, and I feel like I’ve just skated a loop of my hometown rink with Rebecca Hammond completely naked—it’s equal parts exhilarating and mortifying.
“Wow, West,” she stammers.
My hands now officially form sweat puddles in my pockets. “I wanted you to know. I needed you to know.”
Eva’s fidgeting hands have gone still, and it’s like she’s a statue carved from shock. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Really.” Because this is about me and speaking my truth—no matter how scary and painful it is.
I take a hesitant step closer, my heart thumping a solo that could wake the dead. “And there’s a bit more, so bear with me. I shuffle my feet, trying to find my words. “You see me—the real me—and like me for it. You’re impressed that I can quote every line from The Empire Strikes Back and love my endless musings about things that only exist in the imagination.” I whoosh out a breath. “You’re like this walking, talking highlight reel of all the good stuff in my life. You bring out the best in me, and doing absolutely nothing with you is better than doing everything with somebody else.”
She blinks, and for a second, I think I may have short-circuited her. But then a tear slips free, carving a track down her cheek, and I know this is eating her up inside.
Her lips part, and I brace for... I don’t know what. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, each word wrapped in a sob. “This is so overwhelming.”
“Please don’t be sorry.” My hands flail in an attempt at comfort from a safe distance. “If I didn’t tell you how I felt, I would’ve always regretted it. And I don’t want to go through life with any more regrets—especially not this one.” I offer her a lopsided smile, hoping it’s enough to cobble the moment back together, to make it less sad and more us.
But she doesn’t smile back. “That was so beautiful.” Her voice trembles. She squeezes her eyes shut, and more tears fall. “You have this way of making me feel like the most special woman in the world.”
“Eva, you are. Period.”
She shakes her head, pain etched on her face. She’s wooden when she whispers, “This is why I never wanted to push this as more than friends. Because now that I did, everything’s over. For good.”
“I’m grateful for every moment I had with you.”
She pulls me into a tight hug. “You’re amazing. I’ll miss you, West Quinn. Everything about you. I’ll miss us.”
“Me too. More than you know.”
She lets go and opens the door. Her farewell is a quiet echo of footsteps down the empty hall. I close the door because if I watch her any longer, I’ll lose it.