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I can never give my heart fully to another again. But I’m in limbo because Abraham will never have that power over me again.
I have little girls who look up to me. I won’t let them see me settle for a tepid love or lose myself in a love that’ll swallow me whole.
“We’re older. Perhaps wiser, no?” His words are tentative, and I stare up at him, my eyes squinting under the late afternoon sun.
“What is it you want from me?” I ask, shirking my fear and leading us toward some form of the truth that we could hopefully stomach.
“Another chance to be the man you asked me to be. The one I was too afraid to be.” I close my eyes at the sound of his words, the lick of his accent, the memory of hearing him share his secrets with me as we remained one.
“It isn’t just me anymore,” I remind him, opening my eyes again, prepared to move in some direction forward. Safely. Time makes us wiser…doesn’t it?
He nods, wordless for a moment. And then he speaks and it’s in a more serious tone than I’m used to from him.
“I know.”
It’s hard to leave a man who hasn’t done anything wrong.
But not harder than leaving a man who hardly did a thing right.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL
PAST
Meet me in my office after your last class.
I’ve read the text half a dozen times, and each time, a shot of adrenaline passes through me, pooling between my thighs. A few fucking words, beckoning me to him, and I’m a horny mess. The mental finger crook has me fidgeting in the seat of my last class, wondering how he’s handling waiting for me.
Is he as nervous as I am? As turned on?
I cross my bare legs, glancing down at my black wrap skirt. Paired with my black fitted shirt, I feel like I’m some kind of ballerina.
I’m not paying attention when students start standing around me, getting their things together to leave.
Just as I step outside, my phone rings. When I see Miley’s name on my screen, I grin before answering.
“What’s up?” I ask, holding my cellphone between my ear and shoulder as I adjust my bag.
“Sushi tonight?”
“Um…” I start, unsure. “Give me like an hour and I’ll let you know.”
“If I don’t hear from you before then, you’re on your own,” she says, her voice monotone as if she’s trying to multitask.
“I’ve fed myself for this long. I think I’ll be okay,” I remind her, making my way out of the building and cutting across the grass toward Professor Pugliesi.
“Everyone knows a meal with Miley is an event. Besides, I feel like we haven’t spent time together in a while.”
When she says this, I feel a pang of guilt. But it’s quickly dissolved by the knowledge that more often than not, we hang out because Miley has a hole in her busy schedule. Or she wants me to be her date to an event that she inevitably leaves with someone else.
And I don’t mind. I love her. She’s brilliant, kind, strong. A lot of things I haven’t been exposed to in my life—especially from the women in my life.
But this is something I’m doing for me, and I won’t feel guilty about this.
“We’ll make plans for this weekend, if anything,” I tell her, before she lets me go, content to order sushi for herself if I don’t show.
My phone is inside my bag by the time I’m standing outside of his office, the door slightly ajar again. Only this time, he’s waiting inside for me. There isn’t another woman inside, tempting him.
