Page 11 of Face-Off with my Childhood Best Friend

With a gentle hum, her phone vibrates on the table, signaling an incoming call or message. Carefully, she flips it over to reveal the hidden message. “Long-distance relationships don’t work, Oscar. I know.”

Glancing at her across the table, my heart pounds in my chest, aching at the knowledge she doesn’t want to think of us as anything but friends.

“And you, Oscar. Did you not find anyone to keep your bed warm?” she asks, letting me know I moved on too.

What she doesn’t know is my heart never moved on. That’s been securely locked up, untouched for years, and she alone possesses the key.

“I’ve not been a saint.” I swallow the lump in my throat when she checks the message again. “But I’ve loved no one since you.”

Her eyes flick up and she slams the cell face down. “That’s a big statement. Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

I can see her eyes flickering across my face, trying to capture every expression.

“Champagne.” The server places two flutes on the table and fills each glass with bubbles before he places the bottle in the chiller by the table.

“May I take your order now?” he asks.

“May I have grilled chicken salad with the dressing on the side, please?” Nadia folds the menu and places it on the table.

“I’ll have the medium-rare steak with a garlic sauce and a medley of vegetables, thanks.”

“Of course, it shouldn’t be long. Enjoy your champagne.”

As the server’s gaze locks onto Nadia, his eyes narrow in suspicion, and without a word, he swiftly pivots and departs.

“He doesn’t believe you,” I say, lifting my glass of champagne as she does hers.

She lifts a shoulder. “It’s not like I’m a famous hockey star.”

I straighten my back and look directly into her eyes. “We can make us work,” I say, determination seeping into my voice.

Her laughter is light, almost musical. Her eyes lock onto mine, a mischievous glimmer dancing within them, as she lifts the crystal flute to her lips, the sparkling champagne bubbling enticingly inside. “Where did that come from?” she teases, playfully raising an eyebrow.

“It came from five years of pent-up frustration. Five years of knowing I hurt you to keep you, but instead, I drove you away. Five years of wanting what I couldn’t have. And five years of loving a ghost.”

“I’m not a ghost. I’m here.”

“I pined for you like you’d died and my heart died with you.”

“Oscar…”

I tilt my chin, urging her not to feed me an excuse. “Don’t give me some bullshit story of living in Europe. I’ll make it work, if you will,” I say.

“I want to believe that,” she whispers.

“Believe it, Nadia, because if today made me realize anything, it was that my heart needs to love again. And it can only love you.”

Nadia sets her champagne flute down slowly, her intense gaze never leaving mine. The tension between us is palpable, filling the air with crackling energy.

She reaches out her hand, her fingers slide over mine. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through me.

“I missed you, Oscar. I pined for you for years,” she admits softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But life went on. You got on with yours and I got on with mine. We’ve changed. We’re not kids anymore.”

As our hands intertwine, I feel the softness of her skin against my own.

I clear my throat, fear of being rejected again kindling my gut, but I know it’s now or never. “If I tell you, I never stopped loving you. That it was always you.”

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