I stand up and step between her legs before pressing my lips to her forehead. “I love you, Little Bit. I’m so sorry.”
She sniffs and wipes her eyes, not even trying to hold back her tears anymore. When she meets my gaze, I break. I don’t deserve her. The beautiful, intelligent, loving and kind woman sitting in front of me deserves the world, and instead, she gets my mess.
When she doesn’t respond, I move to leave.
“I love you, too,” she rasps as I reach for the door handle, and I sag in relief.
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Well, today.” I shrug and smile.
She nods but doesn’t meet my eyes.
As soon as I’m in my truck, I scream out and curse myself for the mess I’ve made before driving home to drown my sorrows in alcohol.