Bryn
I head home and replay the scene over and over in my head, and not only the moment when I realized my secret-restroom lovers were Cole and Miranda. No. Not that mind-boggling, what-the-ever-living-fuck moment.
Also, before that.
Years before that.
Wondering when I sat in the back of his car, fighting for Christos, why I couldn’t have been braver before he even met Miranda, so that things would have not come to be this complicated. Wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t been afraid of falling for Aaric years ago. Wondering if I could have rescued us from heartbreak, like I’ve wondered for years what would have happened if I’d called my parents that night.
I’m retracing all the steps I have taken—and all the steps that led me here—trying to figure out where I went wrong, which step is preventing me from achieving the one outcome I want and seem to be waiting on bated breath for. The outcome where Christos and I finally have a chance to be together.
I’m circling it all in my head like you’d replay a shocking moment or a favorite one, remembering our times even while fully aware that there is no changing what is now, no changing those past moments, aware that I only have choices in my future ones, and perhaps that is not even possible at all, when I get a call from Cole.
“Hey. Just wanted to call and say I’m sorry.”
I don’t know how to reply. I’m surprised that he’s calling me considering he has more important things to talk about with his brother.
“I planned to come through,” he continues.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” I ask, completely baffled.
“Because no one should be without the woman he loves.”
“You love Miranda,” I say when it dawns on me.
“I meant my brother.”
“Oh.”
“You do love him too. Don’t you?”
“Is he all right?” I clutch the receiver tighter and hold my breath while I wait for his answer.
“Ha. Better than ever. He said I did him a favor. I should be a good dad like he was to me.”
“So it’s yours?”
“I suspect it is. But we’ll make sure. Even then…” he trails off.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He repeats, “You do love my brother, don’t you?”
“Always,” I croak.
“Good. I hope you two spend the rest of your lives proving it to each other.”
He hangs up, leaving me buzzing in hope over his words as Sara texts.
Are you okay? You left and everyone was gone but Christos—he said he was staying until all the guests were gone. Becka and I offered to help.
Yes, it’s just…I’m okay, I text.
This whole thing with the baby has really made me realize how deeply, how completely I love him. I just want it all, him in any way, even with baggage and with anything else.
I curl my legs underneath me as I sit on the couch and stare at Christos’s contact.
I want to thank him for staying to make sure things went smoothly, for safekeeping my business for me when I should have maybe stayed too.
I lost it tonight. What I asked of him was selfish of me to ask, but I keep thinking: this is one chance.
We have just this one chance.
And he chose me. He looked at me and those eyes were clearly saying, he chooses me.
Oh god. Nervous about how his talk with Miranda will go, I stare at my phone. I want to call him and ask how he is, but I also want to give him space.
I need to walk. Clear my head. So I head to Washington Square Park. It’s isolated at night, and all lit up. The arch, the fountain, the water, it always makes me feel better. At 11 a.m. the dog park is full of dogs, but tonight at 11 p.m. it’s vacant.
“Pretty nice all lit up. Isn’t it?”
I flip around, startled to see Aaric standing there. As real as real gets, and as gorgeous as he was an hour ago.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ask, breathless.
He raises his hand. “Find my friends.” He shows me his phone. “Or should I say, Find the love of my life.”
“You don’t believe in that.”
“Yes, I do. But I found her too early. Too easy. Maybe sooner than she was ready. Sooner than I was ready.”
There’s a soft sound—the sound of me sharply inhaling my breath as he comes to stand next to me. To watch the fountain, next to me.
The familiar feel of his body heat envelops me. It fills me with such acute longing I need to bite down desperately on my lips while I try to remember to breathe.
“She’s getting tested as soon as she can,” he says.
My heart is starting to pound as he reaches out to hook his index finger with mine. He runs his thumb along my hand, his voice low and tender.
“You were right. This has been so hard because the truth I’ve been trying to accept is wrong. It doesn’t matter if I have a child with someone else as long as I want you, love you.
“This issue with Miranda has felt so painful because it’s wrong. Because we could do this, Bryn. You and I. Because this is our only second chance. Our last chance.” He takes me by the shoulders and turns me around to face him—his eyes a dark, vivid gold and raw with emotion.
“Anything keeping me away from you is wrong. My fears or yours. My desires for a family even when you can give me one. We sometimes don’t get the family we choose, even the kids we have, or how they sometimes come. But you choose who you marry. Who you spend your life with. And I very,” he emphasizes meaningfully, “desperately want it to be you.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No family can be happy if the father is miserable. I would want my child to be proud of me, knowing I did the right thing and not hurt the girl I’ve always loved.” He cups my face. “I want a family. I want it with you. The woman I lo—”
Anxious, I quiet him with my finger, pressing it to his lips. Then I quickly, almost frantically, rise up on tiptoe, pressing my mouth to my thumb and kissing it. I drop my thumb, and then I’m kissing him because in the midst of all the what ifs, sometimes you need to make a choice.
He takes control and lifts me up, kissing me thoroughly.
A couple of tears slip out, sliding down my cheeks as I smile against his mouth. “Don’t cry,” he says.
“I’m happy. They’re happy tears.”
“Then I won’t mind seeing more of that.”
A tender look sweeps into his eyes as he drinks me in, dries my eyes as if he won’t ever have me cry again, and he leans down and kisses me some more.
“You look gorgeous.” He eyes my dress, when he eases back to let me catch a breath.
“This old thing?” I tease.
He smiles.
“Amazing what the right clothes do for a woman even when she feels like shit,” I admit.
“Amazing what the right woman does for a man even when things go to shit.”
He brushes my mouth, hungry, as he nuzzles me.
“Always had a thing for your nose,” I breathe.
“Really.”
“Hmm. Lots of character.” I nuzzle him.
“Big as shit.”
“Yes.”
“All the more to smell you better.”
I laugh and snuggle into him. “You’re all big as shit, it’s perfect on your face.” I stop to touch his face. “I love your face.”
Tenderness, it’s wild and free and raw and primal, and it’s all in his kiss as he nuzzles my nose with his, melting me before his lips crush mine sort of proprietary, sort of fierce, sort of possessive, sort of exquisitely.
He boosts me up by the butt and sets me down on the fountain ledge, bringing me to his eyelevel.
I slip my arms around his neck, and he holds me by the waist. “For a while I’ve been all business. After I lost my mother. I was good at it. I convinced myself that if you’d have gone for me, you would have, long ago—so I never came back. I was good at business, and that was that. I thought I didn’t need more. I do.” He slides his hand into the back of my neck, his grip possessive on my nape as he squeezes gently, his gaze carving into me. “I want, need more. You. Your acceptance, your love. Your smiles, your kindness, your sweetness. Mine. For me.”
I nod so fast I get dizzy, and he chuckles as he boosts me down. We start to walk along the park.
He looks at me as if he doesn’t plan to forget a single feature of my face.
We look at each other as if for the first time.
“Let’s have a do-over,” he says, tugging me close.
“No.” I shake my head, pressing my cheek to his chest. “I don’t want to have missed a thing.”
“Then let’s not miss a thing of what’s coming.”
He looks down at me and brushes my lips with his thumb. “Babies.”
I nod.
“Marriage.”
I nod.
“Considering I’m marrying you in City Hall as fast as I can…can I at least have your name?”
I laugh, cheeks burning.
“Bryn.”
“Bryn. I’m Aaric,” he says, cupping my cheek in one big hand and bringing his eyes to look deep into mine, giving me the most devastating grin. “Bryn, I see my future in your eyes.”