Chapter 61
Liz, April 18
It could’ve been Ben.
All along, it could’ve been Ben. I hang my head and allow myself to imagine the possibilities. I cannot picture it fully—how different I was last year, before all of this. Would it have always bothered me, wondering what could’ve happened with Matt? Could I have handled being 5,000 miles from Ben? What about the baby I didn’t realize I wanted until I felt it move inside me?
Then I know. Everything we’ve been through led us to this moment, here and now. No regrets, I tell him proudly.
“Excuse me?” His emerald eyes flash with confusion.
“Life is too short for regrets. I don’t want to have any. I’ve decided to live in the now, to do what’s right, and to not look back on how it works out.”
“That’s a good idea.” He smiles, playful and familiar—the same smile I used to see on late-night Skype calls years ago.
“Thank you,” I say, fully aware of the warmth growing inside me, a desire to feel him closer.
“So, do you forgive me for not telling you how I felt sooner?” He leans toward me, and I notice the strength in his frame beneath the soft grey shirt. My chest tightens with longing.
“Absolutely.” I gulp, letting my nerves settle. “I can forgive you for what’s in the past and we can move forward. Now, if I came all this way and didn’t do this, I’d be sad.” I lean in and kiss him lightly, tentative, testing the waters, inviting him in. I pull back and look into his eyes.
“No regrets?” he teases.
“That’s the idea.”
“Then come here.” He pulls me closer, and when our lips meet again, it’s urgent, warm, all-consuming. I let the rush of emotion guide me as he leads me down a hallway.
We stop at a closed door. Ben pauses, blocking the room, and I recognize the bedroom where we used to talk late into the night. He lifts my chin gently and kisses me again. “Do you want to come in?”
I understand the question for what it is: a chance to back out. But there’s no turning back. I lay a hand on his chest, feel his steady heartbeat, and take a small step forward. He responds immediately, pulling me inside.
The room is familiar—the dark blue comforter, the desk, the rolling chair. My heart swells with memories. Ben’s hands are warm on my sides, and his eyes search mine, silently asking if I’m certain.
“Yes,” I nod.
He settles beside me on the bed, and the closeness is electric. He lays a hand over my stomach, a quiet question in his touch. “How does this work, with… that?”
I smile. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t change anything.”
Spurred by trust and desire, I let myself be closer, to feel him, to be with him. We move together, hands tracing familiar and new contours alike, lips exploring, hearts racing. There’s a shared hunger in our touch, a wordless conversation that has waited years to be spoken.
When we pause, breathless and smiling, he props himself on one elbow and traces a finger along my arm. Goosebumps rise, and I shiver in anticipation and delight.
“I knew I’d get you to open your eyes for me one day,” he whispers. The memory of an old promise floods me with warmth, and I smile back, genuine and full, knowing that, finally, we are here together.