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Christa
I throw my cell down on my bed and race to the bathroom for a shower. My depressed ass has been moping around the house all damn day, still gross from my sexcapade last night, but not wanting his scent washed off, as mad as I was at him.
I shower quickly, wash my hair, and dress into black short-shorts and a pink tank top with no bra. I quickly dry my hair and forgo the makeup because it’s not worth the effort.
When I saw he was calling earlier, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I thought, this can’t be real.
I debated on not answering, but of course my heart won out and I’m glad I did. I hope he’s coming over here to apologize for ditching me this morning and not to tell me we can’t see each other, but that doesn’t seem to be his M.O. His sign that he’s done seeing someone is to just ghost them. Or maybe it’s only me he does that to.
I tidy up the living room, turn the television to the Netflix home screen, and quickly load the dishwasher.
Again, why am I trying to impress him?
Because I love him. And also, a messy house is no bueno regardless if someone’s coming over or not.
Just as I’m folding the blanket to place over the back of the couch, my doorbell rings. I open the door, and can’t help the smile as I see Eric standing there with bags from the local gourmet burger place he knows I love, and that we used to frequent together all the time.
“I come bearing gifts of groveling and apology.” He fucking bows while holding the bags, and I shake my head.
“You’re too much,” I say, ushering him inside.
He sets the food down and grabs me, enveloping me in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
I stare into his beautiful blue eyes, my gaze flicking back and forth. “You need to stop bolting every time you’re scared. I’m sick of it.”
His full lips lift in a smile and then he kisses me softly. I, of course, kiss him back because I’m weak for him. This man could tell me to drive the getaway car while he robs a bank and I would do that. And that makes me pathetic.
As he pulls back, I gaze into his eyes once more. “I know dudes hate these four dreaded words, but, Eric... we need to talk.”
He nods and sighs, resigned. “I know.”
I grab his hand and lead him to the couch, where we both sit, facing each other.
“Why were you at the Mile High Rooms last night?” I ask honestly.
He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t look away. “To see you. Why were you there?”
“Same reason,” I reply. “What would you have done if I wasn’t there, and someone else walked in?”
“I would have left,” he answers immediately. “I wanted to see you.”
“You could have just called me. I don’t understand why you didn’t,” I say, frustrated.
“Didn’t think you’d want me.” He shrugs.
I stare at him for a few long, seconds, and ask, “Why were you at the rooms the first time?”
“To try to get you out of my system, but it was you there anyway, and there was no way I was going to not have you. It was cowardly, I know.” This time, he does look down. “Why were you?”
“Same reason, to fuck you out of my system. Turns out, I just thought about you the whole time, so that didn’t work at all and I’ve been feeling guilty about it since, even though we weren’t together.”
“Same here,” he admits. “I’m just glad it wasn’t anyone but you there. I’m deleting the app, by the way.”
“Me too,” I admit, because I’ve been thinking about it anyway. Meaningless sex is just that—meaningless.
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, his hand brushing mine.
Finally, I gesture to my body and I ask, “Do I look thinner to you?”
He looks stressed, not moving his gaze from my face. “Uh, this feels like a trick question.”
I chuckle a little, and say, “No, I’m being serious. It’s not a trick. It’s not like you can hurt my feelings either way.”
“Okay, full stop? Yes. You look thinner, and for the record, I don’t fucking like it.”
That makes me happy. “I don’t either. But I’ve dropped twenty-five pounds in the last eight months. Because of you. So... if you want these hips and ass back, you’re gonna have to do me a favor.”
Confused, he asks, “What’s that? Do you need a personal trainer? Because there are some exer—”
“Shut up.” I put my finger to his lips. “No, I don’t need a personal trainer. I need you... to stop. Fucking. Leaving me. I can’t eat or sleep or function when I think you hate me. When you disappear without an explanation. When I blame myself for you not being here. I can’t do... this”—I gesture around the apartment—“life without you. I’m miserable, Eric. Miserable.”
He stares at me. “I don’t hate you, and it’s massively upsetting to think that you thought I ever did. I honestly don’t hate anyone but myself. You’re beautiful, and perfect, and I don’t...” He blows out a breath, and I’m devastated to hear that he hates himself. “I don’t deserve you, Christa.”
A lump forms in my throat and I run my hand along his muscular leg, then slide it up his shorts without touching where I’m sure he wants me to, so I freeze at the top of his thigh. I decide I’m going to unload on him while I have him here, because judging by his history, who knows when I’ll have his audience again. “No, you don’t deserve me.” I start to cry and hate myself for it. “You broke my fucking heart, Eric.” Tears form along my lashes as all the heartache and months of depressive sickness come crashing back. “But unfortunately for me, you still have it, as shattered as it is, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do but let you. To keep it. I can’t keep wanting you and being let down. I can’t let you make love to me so beautifully, like everything is okay, and then just leave me, broken. So you have to make a decision. You have to make a commitment to be with me, or let me go.”
He looks at me, the devastation and guilt I’ve seen so many times in his eyes, but this time, it’s for me and not his past sins and crimes. “I’m so sorry. All I want...” He blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck. All I ever wanted was to protect you, shield you, save you from whatever might come to harm you.”
This warms my cold heart, and it starts beating a little faster now. “Look... I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. You know this. But you... I felt like you needed saving, but... so did I. Not from the same kind of things you’ve been through, but from loneliness. My heart would never open to anyone. So I waited. Then I met you, and the whole idea of love for a lifetime made sense because I’d met the one. You, Eric.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “Listen to me, please. I need you to understand that I’m not good. I’m a self-recriminating asshole. The bad guy. You think I’m here to sweep you off your feet, and I tried. But, Christa. I’m not the hero. I’m the villain. It’s why I’ve kept you at arm’s length, but now I understand that this isn’t about keeping you away from me or all the bad things I’ve done. It’s about what you want. If you want the world, I will bust my ass to give it to you. I’ll tear it down and rebuild it if I have to. You’re not someone I can let go of, and honestly? I’m not willing to. Not now. Not. Fucking. Ever.”
We lock eyes, and mine have tears leaking out and streaming down my cheeks. “You are not a villain, Eric. How could you think that?”
“Every day I was in Africa, I thought about you. I’m serious, Christa. Every day. I read your texts and you were right. I was an asshole and hoped you’d move on from me and be happy with a guy who wasn’t so tainted black, with a stained past that you shouldn’t have to deal with. When Mr. Stamp...” He stops, clearing his throat. “When he died, I basically just snapped. I don’t know if he shot himself or someone else did, but because of me, that little girl’s orphaned, and I just... I couldn’t deal with it. See, it doesn’t matter who pulled the trigger. Another life was ruined.”
I caress his face, running my fingers along his stubbly jaw. “His death was an accident, Eric.”
His eyes fly to mine and he gapes at me, alarmed. “What? How do you know?”
“I had Melinda pull the police records. He was cleaning his rifle. It was loaded and went off. He didn’t do it on purpose. The guy was just careless and obviously very... unlucky.”
“Damn,” he says, shaking his head. “That sucks, but his kid is still orphaned. Because if her mom was still around, she’d have her.”
I grab his face between my fingers, making him look at me. “Stop it, Eric. Stop it right now. I’m tired of hearing you talk like this. You can’t change the past, it’s done. She’s gone and isn’t coming back. You can only pray for the little girl, that she grows up to be strong and honors her parents’ memories.”
He nods. “I don’t know when the guilt is going to end.”
I wrap my arms around him. “Maybe you should talk to someone,” I suggest. “I can go with you if you want.”
Eric shakes his head. “I have been. I mean, Anne’s a court-ordered therapist, but I have talked, and it’s helped, but clearly, this is something I have to just live with, I guess.”
“It sounds like it, unfortunately. But I’m here for it—for you, so you know. I’m not going anywhere, as long as you stay by my side and support me too,” I tell him honestly.
He stares at me. “I’m not going anywhere, gorgeous. I promise. No more being stupid. You’ve proven you love me and are going to stand by my side, and it’s selfish of me to keep bolting every time I think you’re going to reject me or not want to be with me, or worse, realize you could do better than a convicted felon whose doctor license has been stripped. A man whose nightmares wake him. And for that, I’m really and truly sorry I hurt you. I hate that about me, so please tell me how I can make it up to you Please, Christa.”
I kiss his nose. “I forgive you. And while I won’t apologize for being so angry, I do feel bad for not pursuing you more, for not staying on you and letting you know how much I needed you and would be here for you.”
He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I had to dig out of this hole my own way and on my own timeline, but I promise that I’m done wallowing. My life is for you now.”
I smile, tears in my eyes once again, and kiss him softly on his beautiful lips.
“God, I love you,” he whispers, fighting emotion, and my heart flutters while my stomach turns over with happiness.
“I love you, too. Eric. So damn much.”