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“This is kinda not what I was hoping for, should I be scared?” She asks.
“No, not scared, but definitely know that I had nothing to do with how the relationship ended,” I tell her with full confidence.
She places her chin on her hand and leans toward me. “Okay, tell me everything,” she says.
“I was in a relationship with someone for a few years, but then she got a new job. This job was out of state and she moved to Miami. We worked well together for a few months before the communication dwindled. I did what I could to keep the relationship going, but she stopped communicating with me and then I found out that she ultimately was having another relationship with someone else. Someone that she met there not too long after she moved.”
She gasps and covers her mouth. “How long before that happened?”
“I don’t know. I never asked for details. But she started, about a month after she moved to slow down on the communications, despite how much I tried to talk to her.”
“You wanted to make it work.” Peyton says, more as a statement and to herself than a question.
“I did. Or at least I thought I did. I will admit that looking back now, I don’t think I was fully in love with her. Otherwise, I would have offered to move for her when she did.”
“How long ago was this relationship?” she asks.
“It was roughly five years ago.” I reply with a shrug.
“Okay, go on,” she prompts nodding as if taking note in her mind about the conversation.
“Well, I flew to Miami and she confided the reasoning for her lack of communication. She actually didn’t need to tell me anything, as I came face to face with the man she was dating. So, we broke up, tried to keep things calm about it all and I came back here. I loved her, but I don’t think that I was really in love with her.”
“What does that mean?” she questions.
“It means that, yes, I loved her. But I wasn’t in love with her. I wouldn’t have done whatever it took to make sure that the end result of our relationship ended with the both of us together. I know there is nothing that could have been done, since she was romantically involved with someone else and was nothing that I had control over. It wasn’t that I wasn’t attentive, or that I was a bad boyfriend, but I know that if I was head over heels in love with her that I could have figured out a way to be together. I could have moved to Miami, but that was never a thought in my mind, or anything that I would have ever considered.”
“But, you said something along those lines to me, that you would move to LA to be with me?” she questions.
“And I meant it.”
Chapter Thirteen
“This one time in Vegas I almost got whiplash when the Magic Mike dancer whipped my chair around!”
PEYTON
And I meant it.
His words echo in my mind as I slip into bed tonight. I’m still sleeping in the guest room and a part of me feels guilty. Our relationship is progressing, we’ve kissed here and there, but up until this moment, I’ve been okay with taking it slow. However now, I’m anxious, eager, and I want more.
I sit up, remove the comforter from my body and with my hands on my knees, I take a deep breath. I push up to stand and shake out my arms to get rid of the jitters. I walk to the door of the bedroom and turn the knob.
He learned from his mistakes in previous relationship, and while I should be terrified that his long-distance relationship didn’t work out, the way he worded it had proved he did everything in his power to try to make it work.
Even though I’m feeling a little self-conscious wearing only a shirt, I hold my head up and slip through the bedroom door, walking the short distance to his room. The door isn’t closed, but open just a crack. The light illuminates part of the wall and I pause before breaching the space.
I hear the faint sound of the television, and hope that I’m not interrupting anything, like work. I take a deep breath and lightly knock on the open door.
“Max?” I say quietly, in case he doesn’t hear the knock.
A moment later, the light expands into the hallway as he opens the door wider with his body filling the frame.
He’s shirtless.
I fight every nerve of my body to touch his chest upon sight.
“Are you okay?” he asks with worry in his gaze as he looks me up and down to see if I’m injured.
