Chapter 2
Maya
My legs moved before my brain caught up.
One step toward Ivan. Then another. My body was doing something my mind hadn't authorized, closing the distance when every rational part of me screamed to stay back.
I caught a whiff of his cologne as I neared the porch, cedar and bergamot, the same scent that still lingered on my vanity in that amber bottle I couldn't bring myself to throw away. My nipples tightened beneath my dress, heat flooding low in my belly.
Every inch of my body still remembered him.
"What are you doing here?" I folded my arms across my chest, hoping to hide what was happening underneath.
Ivan's mouth curved. "I came to see you. Obviously."
"After a year of nothing? No calls, no texts, no..."
"I know."
"You don't get to just show up."
"And yet." He spread his hands. "Here I am."
Griffin stepped up beside me, his hand finding the small of my back. His thumb pressed firm against my spine, not the usual gentle circle, but a grip. Holding on.
"It's almost ten at night," Griffin said. "Whatever you have to say can wait until..."
Ivan's gaze cut to him. Slow. Deliberate. He looked Griffin up and down, from his disheveled hair to his untucked shirt to the belt that was still crooked from our bathroom adventure, and his green eyes went hard.
"If you don't mind," Ivan said, his voice dropping to something quieter, "I'm talking to Maya."
"And I'm her boyfriend."
"Good for you."
A muscle flinched beneath Ivan's cheek. Neither of them moved.
"Ivan." I stepped between them before this could escalate into neighborhood gossip that would last for years. "It's late. You shouldn't be here. In case you forgot, we ended a year ago."
"I'm aware." His gaze locked onto mine, and the rest of the world, Griffin, the porch, the streetlights, faded to static. "I made a mistake."
My stomach dropped.
Griffin moved toward him. "Alright, buddy. Time to go."
He reached for Ivan's arm, and Ivan's hand shot out, catching Griffin's wrist mid-air.
"Touch me," Ivan said softly, "and it'll be the last thing you do."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise."
Griffin was tall. Fit. But Ivan had six inches and forty pounds on him, and the look in his eyes said he'd welcome the excuse.
"Stop." I grabbed Ivan's forearm, a mistake, because the contact sent heat shooting up my arm. "Both of you, stop."
Ivan released Griffin's wrist but didn't step back.
"You know I don't give up easily."
"Funny." The words came out sharper than I intended. "You gave up pretty easily on us."
Pain crossed his face. There and gone.
"I was stupid back then. I have my priorities straight now." He took a step closer, and I forgot to step back. "I want another shot."
"You don't get to decide that."
"No. You do." His voice dropped. "So decide."
"Maya." Griffin's voice behind me. Quiet. Strained.
I turned to look at him, and what I saw made my stomach drop. Not anger. Something worse. His jaw had gone slack, his eyes wet. He looked gutted.
He'd seen how I looked at Ivan. He'd seen everything.
His thumb had stopped moving against my back. I hadn't noticed when.
"Please," I said to Ivan, my voice cracking. "Just... leave. Please."
He didn't move. Then he lifted his chin, steeled his expression and nodded once.
"Okay. I'll go." He stepped back, his gaze still holding mine. "But this isn't over."
He walked to his motorcycle, the black Fat Boy I'd spent countless hours on, arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed to his leather jacket, breathing him in while the world blurred past us. The engine roared to life, and he cast one last look over his shoulder before disappearing into the dark.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
*
I fumbled with my keys, hands shaking too badly to fit metal into lock.
Griffin took them from me without a word and opened the door.
I didn't reach for the lights. The darkness felt safer.
"So." His voice was too calm. "That was Ivan."
"I don't know what's gotten into him." I kicked off my heels and headed for the stairs. If I could just get to my room, close the door, have five minutes to think...
"Maya."
I stopped on the third step. Didn't turn around.
"He clearly wants you back."
"What he wants doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?"
"It's not going to happen." I started climbing again. "Can we please just drop it?"
"Drop it?" Griffin's footsteps followed me up the stairs, past my mother's watercolors on the wall, past my father's study that I still couldn't bring myself to enter. "Your ex shows up at your house demanding a second chance, and you want me to drop it?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I want."
"Too bad."
I reached the landing and kept walking. My bedroom door was six feet away. Five. Four.
"I saw your face, Maya."
I froze.
"When you looked at him." Griffin's voice was right behind me now. "I saw the way you looked at him. And you were already walking toward him before you even knew you were moving."
I turned slowly. There he was, standing in the hallway of my childhood home, surrounded by ghosts he couldn't see, looking at me like he could see straight through to the truth I'd been hiding.
"I was surprised to see him." The lie came out thin. Unconvincing.
"Bullshit."
I flinched. Griffin never swore.
"If I hadn't been there, you would've gone to him."
"That's not..."
"Don't." He held up a hand. "Don't lie to me. You've been lying to me since we met, haven't you?"
"I haven't..."
"We talked about our exes, Maya. First month we were together. I told you about Claire, about how she cheated, about how I was the last one to find out." His voice cracked. "And you told me about... what? A guy you dated in college for a few months? A summer fling?"
I couldn't breathe.
"You never mentioned him." Griffin stepped closer. "Nobody looks at a summer fling like that. So how long?"
My eyes burned. "Griffin..."
"How long?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters to me."
"Three years." The words scraped out of me. "We were together for three years before I ended it."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet.
"I knew it. I knew there was something. The missing piece I couldn't figure out." A hollow laugh. "It was him the whole time."
I waited for him to yell. To storm out. To do the thing people do when they've been lied to for months.
He didn't.
He just stood there in the dim hallway, shoulders sagging, brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together.
"You were in love with him." Not a question.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. I nodded, ashamed.
"And now?"
"I love you." The words came out desperate. "I'm in love with you, Griffin."
"But you still love him too."
I opened my mouth to deny it. To lie one more time.
I couldn't.
"Look me in the eyes," Griffin said, "and tell me you're not still in love with him."
I met his gaze. Blue eyes, red-rimmed, waiting.
There was a long silent pause between us.
"That's what I thought." He exhaled slowly and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ."
"I'm sorry." I was crying in earnest now, ugly sobs I couldn't control. "I didn't mean for this. I tried to forget him. I tried so hard. I didn't tell you because I couldn't bear to relive it. I thought if I didn't talk about him, I could finally move on."
"Use me to move on?"
"No." I stepped toward him, reaching for his hand. "What we have is real. I love you. I don't want to lose you."
He let me take his hand. His thumb traced circles on my palm, the way he always did when he was thinking.
"Okay," he said finally.
I blinked through my tears. "Okay?"
"It's okay." He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me while I shook. "I don't want to lose you either."
I buried my face against his shirt, breathing in sandalwood and clean cotton, letting his steadiness anchor me.
"You're the best part of my life," I mumbled into his chest.
"Apparently not the only part."
I pulled back. "Griffin..."
"No, I didn't mean..." He cupped my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs. "I'm not angry. I'm just trying to figure out what to do about it."
"What is there to figure out? He's my past. You're my present."
"Is that true?"
"Yes."
"Then why couldn't you tell me you're not in love with him?"
I didn't have an answer.
He didn't answer right away. When he spoke again, his voice was careful. Measured.
"What if you didn't have to choose?"
I stared at him. "What?"
"I'm not going anywhere." He held my gaze, steady as ever. "But if it's both of us you want, if you need to see him, be with him, figure out what you actually feel, I'm not going to stand in your way."
I jerked back. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes."
"You're giving me permission to..." I couldn't even finish the sentence.
"I've been in open relationships before. It's not..."
"You're giving me permission to fuck my ex?" My voice pitched higher. "That's your solution?"
"It's not about permission. It's about honesty."
"How is this honesty?"
A muscle flinched at the corner of his mouth.
"Claire cheated on me for eight months before I found out.
Eight months of lies, of feeling like something was wrong and not knowing what.
Everyone else knew. Our friends, her coworkers.
I was the last to find out." His voice went quiet.
"I'd rather know, Maya. I'd rather be part of it than be the idiot who can't see what's happening in his own relationship. "
The words hung in the air.
Eight months. He'd walked around for eight months not knowing. I couldn't imagine what that did to someone.
"So. What? You want to watch?" The question came out harsher than I intended.
"I want to not be lied to. I want to know what's real." He stepped toward me. "I love you. That's not going to change because you're confused about an ex. If being with him is what you need to figure things out, then be with him. Just don't lie to me about it."
I shook my head, backing away. "This is insane. You know that, right?"
"Maybe."
"If you actually loved me, you wouldn't be offering to share me like, like I'm a timeshare."
"Is that what you think love is? Possession? Jealousy?"
"I think love is fighting for someone."
"I am fighting." His voice rose for the first time.
"I'm fighting to keep you in my life any way I can.
I'm fighting to give you what you actually need instead of what I think you should want.
" He exhaled hard. "Do you know how hard this is for me?
Standing here, offering you a way to be with another man?
I'm terrified, Maya. But I'm more terrified of losing you because I tried to cage you into something you're not ready for. "
"You're terrified."
"Yes."
"You don't look terrified."
"I'm very good at hiding it." That half-smile, the one with the dimple, surfaced briefly. "Years of practice."
I didn't know what to say. My framework for love was simple. You choose someone, and you're theirs, and they're yours, and that's it. Anything else was betrayal.
But Griffin was looking at me like his definition was different. Like love to him meant transparency instead of possession.
"I can't..." I pressed my palms to my temples. "This is too much. I need to think."
"Take all the time you need."
"You're just going to stand there?"
"What would you prefer I do?"
"I don't know. Yell. Storm out. Something normal."
"Would that help?"
"No."
"Then I'll stay."
I wiped my eyes. "Are you missing a marble?"
"Probably several."
"I just..." I shook my head. "I don't understand you."
"All I'm saying is think about it. I want you, and I'm not letting you go. If you want someone else, I won't stand in your way."
I stared at him.
The scary part was, he was serious.