The Lie

“Maybe,” I say. I look down at my feet, and he takes a few steps toward me, stopping a foot away. He’s wearing black dress shoes, oxfords, along with his tailored suit pants and grey shirt.

Brigs doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him, feel everything that’s not being said. The space between us is thick with time and longing and regret, just as it always has been. It’s almost amazing to be standing this close to him again and to step back in time four years. I thought I’d been thrown down a long dark hole and came out forever changed, but in his presence, it’s like no time has passed at all.

This could be very, very dangerous.

But when wasn’t it?

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. His voice is so low, almost gruff. My spine feels warm from it. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again, let alone see you.”

My lips twitch into a smile. “I’ve seen you a lot. You just haven’t seen me.”

I finally dare to meet his eyes and immediately wish I hadn’t.

Those eyes of his burn into mine, in that masterful, carnal gaze that used to slay me over and over again. And like before, I’m hypnotized, and the world around me falls away until it’s only him.

“Natasha,” he says softly, searching my face. “I…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, pinching his eyes shut. Now he’s avoiding my gaze, staring at the floor. “There’s so much I want to say to you. To talk to you about. At the same time, it’s painful. All of it. And I’m so done with suffering. Aren’t you?”

I swallow hard and barely whisper, “Yes.”

He looks up at me, his forehead creased. “I just need you to know that the last time we spoke—”

“Brigs,” I tell him quickly. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I do,” he says. “I do. Because I wasn’t me.”

“I know.” God, it hurts that he doesn’t think I understand.

“No, you don’t,” he says, looking up at me. Fuck. His eyes are haunted, full of shadows and darkness. “I told you nothing but lies because it was the only way I could get you out of my life. At the time, all I could think was that I caused this.”

“And I helped,” I fill in.

“I fell in love with you,” he says harshly, pain written on his face.

My heart drops like an elevator in freefall.

I haven’t heard those words in so, so long.

“I fell in love with you and that was on me. That was my choice. I chose you, Natasha. There’s nothing you could have done to stop me.” He pauses, running his hand over his jaw. He gives a quick shake of his head. “Everything I said on the phone was a lie. I can’t believe I was too fucking scared to let you believe it for so long.”

I’m sorry too, I think. Because I ruined him. He may say it’s all on him, but it takes two to tango. We may not have slept together, nor been all that intimate at all, but when I told him I loved him, I willingly jumped into the deep end. I wasn’t na?ve. I knew what I was doing and all the risks, and I did it anyway, the whole world be damned, because I loved him.

All because of love.

But I don’t want to get into that with Brigs. I didn’t come here to find out who feels guiltier. I came here because I wanted closure.

So I take a deep breath and say, “I accept your apology.”

It sounds lame but I hope he knows I mean it.

He eyes me. “You’re sure?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m sure. Brigs…I’m still trying to figure out what to do with you.”

He cocks a brow. “What to do with me?”

“The past will destroy me if I think about it too much. I’ve worked too hard to get back on my feet. I can’t even imagine how you did it. I want to keep putting it all behind me and try to move on, but it feels impossible when my past is standing before me.”

Just a foot away. So close I can breathe him in.

“I see,” he says softly. “I understand. That’s all I wanted to say, really. Just that I’m sorry. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry.”

“And neither will I.” I sigh and press my fist to my forehead. “But at the same time…this can’t be it.”

A glimmer of hope flashes through his eyes as he stares at me expectantly.

I give him a wan smile. “It’s what you said in your email. About disappointing fate. I don’t want to do that either. I don’t think I can live with you in my life as a stranger. It doesn’t seem right.”

He takes a small step toward me, his eyes trained so intently on my face, roaming from my brow to my nose to my lips. “What does seem right?” His voice is so low.

I lick my lips and his eyes linger longer. “I don’t know.”

He continues to study me and I continue to hold my breath.

“Come for a drink with me tonight,” he says after a few long, tension-filled beats.

I give him a wary look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“You’re a teacher. I’m a student.”

“I’m not your teacher, for one thing. And for another…” He smiles wickedly. “I don’t really care.”