“We both put our careers first for now. We date when it’s convenient, and text when we’re apart. We have to get to know the real, true versions of ourselves where we are now.”
“Does that mean you want to try? You’ll give me another chance?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yes.”
“Thank you, baby,” he murmured, already kissing me through my salty tears. “I’m so sorry. I’ll try harder to separate what I’ve been dreaming of and what’s real.”
“I’ll try to be more outgoing.”
“I’ll try to be less controlling.”
“I’ll try to lower my guard and let you in more,” I whispered as his lips skimmed along my damp cheekbone to nuzzle my ear.
“I’ll write a ton of songs about topics that aren’t you,” he breathed.
My fingers gripped the back of his hair. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I had no idea how long we held each other, just breathing. Settling down.
Finally he murmured, “I moved to Toronto. Lora and I just agreed on our rehearsal space. I’m not too far from here, but I swear I won’t drop in without calling. Okay?”
I nodded against his chest. He smelled so good, tweaking every memory of him holding me, loving me.
His thick arms squeezed me for a second, then he helped me stand up. “It’s getting chilly. Let me walk you home.”
Leading him down the street, I felt cautiously optimistic. It was as if we’d hit the reset button, and could start fresh. We’d cleared the cache. Backed everything up a
nd made more space to operate. This felt logical.
It was absolutely lovely just walking slowly, holding his hand. Somehow, I knew now that this was it. We should go slow, but I felt secure that things were likely going to work this time.
When we got to my building, Nate leaned in to give me a kiss goodbye.
“Would you like to come up for a bit?” I asked.
“Actually, yeah. I’d love to see your place.”
We went upstairs as I warned him, “It’s not much, but I’ve never needed much.”
“You’re a frugal gal. One of the many things I like about you.”
It was interesting watching him walk around my space. He seemed so fascinated by every knick-knack. Then his eyes settled on the dish of stones on my bookshelf.
Trailing his fingers through them, he pulled a few out, turning them over in his palm, staring at them carefully before putting them back. Then he found the round pink stone the size of a pea.
Turning to me, he seemed rattled. “You moved so many times,” he said quietly. “And you kept a bunch of rocks that I gave you.”
Nodding, I went over to lean against him. “It was all I had of you.”
His chest shook as he took a trembling breath, his arm wrapping gently around me. “I needed that. I needed to know that you were still thinking about me, at least once in a while.”
“Yeah, of course I did. A lot more than that. But I couldn’t imagine finding you again.”
“But you did,” he laughed.
“I didn’t find you. I flipped on the TV, and there you were.”
There was something different in his kiss as he pulled me against him. It was sensual, but less frantic. Deeper. As much as one can speak through a kiss, it said that the rough road was behind us. It was like the air pressure shifting after a storm – the tension was released.