Chapter Twenty-Six
Remi
Alicia’s back was lit from overhead, outlining her in silver and hiding her face from me, at least the fog had cleared from my glasses.
Her fists were balled tight at her sides.
I’d followed her out to the back porch, but now I second guessed if that was the right choice—she clearly wanted to be alone.
And I was the last person she wanted to see.
I was here now, in a conversation that was nothing but thin ice.
Just the mention of her leaving was enough to turn my blood cold.
She was justified in her anger—it hadn’t happened yet, but I was still nervous that she’d attack the way she used to—a remark too far past the argument only to cut me.
And worse, that I’d fall back into my old shitty responses.
There was no way that I was letting that happen.
“I fucked up,” I said. It wasn’t enough after the long silence that had stretched between us.
“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, because as far as I can tell, we have been fucking up for weeks. First, we almost”—she looked over each shoulder then hissed—“kissed last night.”
I felt slightly better that she was acknowledging it.
“And I’ll be completely honest, this whole situation is fucking with my head even more than I thought it would,” she admitted.
“I get that I practically kicked you out of my place last night, but it was . . . Remi, what am I supposed to do with all of this? Nothing makes sense.” She pointed a finger directly at my face.
“But then I walk through the door, and you’re all cozied up with someone else.
And I feel like the psycho, because, yeah, of course you are, and there’s no reason for me to be upset—”
“I’d be pissed,” I mumbled, but she didn’t stop.
“Do you even get how goddamn thoughtless all of this is? Or how embarrassing it is to want to cry or scream at you in front of people? Which isn’t entirely fair, God, because I’m sure I’m sending you mixed signals.
Like, what the fuck am I even going on about right now?
” She blinked up at the sky, the tears welling in her lower lids caught the light and twisted my heart in my chest. “You are not responsible for my feelings, but what the fuck is going on?”
I crossed my arms to keep from pulling her into me.
A sickening weight grew in my gut as her breathing grew shallow as if she was fighting back tears.
This was the opposite of what I’d set out to do when she’d shown up in this town.
I hated to see how tightly she held on to her tears, while knowing that my actions in the past had proved to her that I wasn’t safe to be vulnerable in front of, or with.
I hated to make her cry.
Scowling, I parceled through everything she had just said looking for the correct place to start. I needed to prove to her that this wouldn’t be like it used to be. I wasn’t the same. That we could work through our issues and come out the other side unscathed.
She wiped the heel of her hand across her cheekbone at a tear that had overwhelmed her efforts to keep it in.
“Lola is just a friend,” I said, regretting that it sounded exactly like something a guilty person would say.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Taking a step closer, I insisted, “It does. Even if our past relationship wasn’t what it is, last night . . . almost . . . I wanted it so badly.”
Want it.
Alicia was all I could think about.
The words were right there, insistent, but her face was still submerged in shadow making it impossible to know if now was the right time to completely open up. There was never going to be a perfect moment, but a better time than now was a possibility.
Even if loving her felt so obvious that I couldn’t believe she couldn’t see it.
I would tell her exactly how I felt. Before she left for Chicago.
Her leaving loomed over me, this unknown deadline with all its ramifications. And she’d be gone. I hadn’t been lying when I said I’d follow her back to the city; I didn’t care where I was as long as I was with her.
“I’m sorry.” I pulled my beanie down further over my forehead. “The sofa was small, and I was trying to give Lo more space. I’m sorry I didn’t think about how it would look to you when you got here.”
Alicia let out a humorless laugh. “Why would you? You’re single.”
“Because I watched the door ever since I got here. I can’t stop looking for you.”
“Remi,” she whispered. It could have been a warning. It probably was.
I swallowed, my heart skipped a beat as adrenaline coursed through my system, gearing up to give her an apology that should have happened five years before.
“And I’m sorry for that night.” She grew unnaturally still, but I kept going, “You were so brave, you were doing something that I was too afraid to do.”
The image of her dripping from the rain clutching the pages of our damp divorce paperwork superimposed on her blacked-out outline.
“I was so cruel. I regret it every day, even more now that I’ve met you again.”
For a moment, neither of us moved or spoke. I didn’t even breathe. It was as if I’d grown thin as tissue paper; she could tear me up without even trying.
But then, she closed the space between us. The slightest pressure of her weight pressed into me, and she rested her cheek against my sternum. I wrapped my arms around her, and she shivered. She still held herself tightly, leaving our embrace one-sided. But that was fine.
God, everything was good.
She was real. She fit perfectly. This was more than I could have ever dreamed.
“Where is your coat?” I asked, resting my chin on the crown of her head.
“You’re one to talk.”
“I hate when you’re cold.”
“But not when you are?”
“I’m not all that concerned about me.”
“I am.” Her admission was barely audible. It could have disappeared in the crunch of snow, but in the still silence I heard. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to the emotions those two words flooded through me.
She nestled her cheek against my sweatshirt. “I should get back in there. I know it’s weird, but I am here for work.”
“I can help.”
I didn’t let her go, and she didn’t pull away.
“Where does all of this leave us?” she mumbled into my chest.
“I hope better than where we started.”
“Does it? I’m so confused.”
I wasn’t confused. Not at all. I had the utmost clarity.