“Because I can.”
“Is this—is this some weird sort of test, or is it your way of punishing me because I left you?”
I let out a dry laugh.
She’s right though. Part of me is doing it to punish her. She knows me too well.
Unfurling my arms, I stand up straight. “Only you would think five hundred million is a punishment.”
“Because I don’t care about your money! I never did. It was never what I wanted from you.”
That blows a fuse in my brain. “Then, what the fuck did you want from me? If it wasn’t the money, what the hell was it?” I yell.
“You!” she shouts back. “All I ever wanted was you!”
“Then, why the fuck did you leave me?”
We’re standing here, yelling at each other, and I know Mark can hear us, but I don’t care.
I care about what she’s about to say next.
A flash of something I can’t discern passes over her face.
Then, her anger is gone as quickly as it came, and she’s retreating, backing up. “I can’t…this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have come.”
She turns to leave and I let out a harsh laugh.
“Running for the door again, Evie? What a fucking surprise. It’s become your specialty, babe. Tell me, does it get easier each time you leave, or was it already easy in the first place?”
Then, she does something that surprises me.
She stops. Her hand on the handle, she presses her forehead to the door.
For a second, I’m not sure what’s happening.
Then, I see her body tremble, and I hear a sniffle.
She’s crying.
Fuck.
I’m moving toward her without a thought. Stopping, I’m only inches from her.
Seeing her like this, crying…it’s like a vise is around my chest, squeezing.
I want to touch her so badly. But I don’t.
Instead, I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “Evie?”
“It was never easy.” Her voice is a whisper.
My heart stills. “What wasn’t?”
She exhales a sad-sounding breath. “Leaving you. No part of that was ever easy.”
“Then…why?”
She shakes her head from side to side, her forehead still resting against the door.
“Talk to me,” I urge gently.
“I can’t.”
Frustration slams into me, but I somehow manage to control it. “Okay, so don’t talk to me about that. At least tell me why you’re crying.”
I hear her take another breath, and then she turns to face me.
The sight of the tears staining her cheeks wrecks me. I never could bear to see Evie cry.
Unable not to, I reach over and brush my fingers over her cheek, collecting her tears.
The feel of her skin is electric against mine. And I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath.
Her eyes lower, like it’s too hard to look at me. “I’m crying because I’m sad. And I’m sad because all we do when we see each other is fight and hurt one another. Mostly, I’m sad because I miss you. I’ve missed you for ten years, and I’m tired of missing you, tired of this hollow space in my chest where you used to be.”
When she lifts those whiskey eyes to mine, I see all the raw pain in them, and I know she’s telling me the truth about that.
Something changes in this moment, and things that seemed important to me before don’t seem so vital anymore.
But what is important are those words she just spoke.
I’ve waited ten years to hear her say those words, to say that she’s missed me.
Now, she has.
Maybe it’s because she said she missed me or because she’s wearing my shirt or because I’ve finally lost my damn fucking mind, or maybe it’s all those things combined, but I can’t stop myself.
I kiss her.
I kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with ten years of pent-up anger and need and longing and desperation.
And I know, in that second when my lips touch hers, that I won’t regret one moment of what’s about to happen. Even when it hurts so badly that I think I’ll regret it, wish it had never happened, I won’t.