“So, what, now you’re a commitment man?”
“I’m the man that’s interested in you, who’s concerned about your well-being, who’s trying to remind you that at one point in time, your own fucking well-being mattered a hell of a lot to you as well.”
“It still does. I told you, it’s been—”
“A bad month, I heard that excuse.” He jerks his chin. “Next.”
“You’re such a smug bastard.”
“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m still a little selfish, but you haven’t changed much either—though I would like to see more of that fire back.”
“I haven’t lost it.”
His lips lift. “Getting there.”
“Stop it. You’ve observed me for four days. That doesn’t make you an expert.”
“Then help me,” he says softly.
“What?”
“Tell me what makes you tick these days, fucking talk to me. Tell me how to become an expert. I’ve approached this from every angle. Tell me how to get through to you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Never been more so.”
“I’m not a problem to solve, and I’m not doing this with you.”
“Heard that bullshit too. You’re already doing this with me. If you’re not eye-fucking me, you’re silently relaying in some subtle way that you remember me—remember us. Or you’re leveling me with your mouth, or a single look, reminding me how much I hurt you. Trust me, you’re doing this with me and have been since the second I got here. You participated in that kiss, Whitney, and you want to be kissed again, right now. It’s written all over you. You’re just too afraid to admit it.”
“This is just convenient. You’re just—”
“Lonely…because it’s the holidays? I spent the last five Christmases alone and plenty before that. Next.” His stare zings through me. “Tell me to fuck off, tell me right now to fuck off for good, and I will. I was prepared to this morning, but when I tried to back off, it hurt you. It can’t hurt you if you don’t care. You do care.
“There’s still an insane attraction between us after all these years and it’s not just physical. You can keep mouthing off your assumptions and whatever you want about my intentions, or you can let me come out and tell you one more time for crystal clarity. I came to see you. I came to apologize for hurting you because I wasn’t man enough to admit I wasn’t ready for what I saw in your eyes all those years ago.
“I’m standing here, kissing you and telling you the mistake I made then was not giving you words—words you needed to hear. I wasn’t capable then. I’m not the same guy you broke up with, and our breakup has a lot to do with why. I’m standing here, seventeen years later, because I never forgot you—and in discovering you again—I want to know you, I want to kiss you. I also want to fuck some sense back into the bitter whiner who’s eating up my thoughts and turning me into the same restless guy who can’t sleep because you’re close to me.”
His eyes drill me as his words pummel my chest.
“Love for your brother and all, but I’m not here to spend Christmas with him. I came here for you. As kamikaze as the idea might have been—hoping it was still there between us and for the possibility of a second chance—it’s apparent now it wasn’t so far-fetched. You still feel a lot for me, too, whether it’s nostalgia-based or not. So, don’t insult me by denying it another fucking minute.”
“You just expect me to—”
“Jesus, how the tables have turned.” He grips my face in his hands. “I already told you I expect nothing, and I sure as hell didn’t expect to feel so damned much so fast, but I should have known I would because it’s you,” he whispers, his eyes filled with affection. “I hoped…I hoped you weren’t so different that I couldn’t recognize you. I hoped for a lot, and now I’m simply asking you. I’m asking you to spend time with me, talk to me, to let me kiss you if you want to be kissed by me.” He swallows as he strokes me with reverent fingers. “I’m asking for another chance with you.”
All I can do is stare back at him.
“God, if you would only let me,” he lowers his hands around my neck and slides his thumbs along my throat. “I’m asking you to think about Whitney and what she wants and needs because that’s all I’m doing. Just think about it.”