Page 13 of When We Were Young

“Emma, you still mean a lot to me. An awful lot.”

And I wait for him to say it—that he loves me.

But he doesn’t.

And I can’t do this again. I can’t forever be waiting for him to say it, if he’s just going to break my heart again. I need to move on. I shouldn’t have come here.

I take a step toward the door.

“Emma, please.” His voice cracks, and I look at him. “I was a fool, I really was. But I need you.”

I turn on him. “Eight years have passed, Oscar. Eight years.You’re just saying this because you’re lonely.”

“No. I’m saying it because it’s true—and you’re here. This means something. I can tell. We belong together.”

I gulp, and then I’m crying. Big, messy tears. “No, everything that’s happened... Oscar, too much has happened, and I don’t know if we can...”

“Please.” His eyes are dark. “Let me prove this to you.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Oscar

The windows glow apale yellow—the soft winter light that Grandmother always loved—and it catches Emma’s hair, and she looks beautiful. The curves of her lips are soft, and I imagine pressing my mouth to hers, breathing her in, inhaling her.

“I’m going to have to go, sorry.” Emma’s voice startles me.

“So soon?” My heart pounds. No. She can’t leave. Not yet!

“I was just dropping it off, really. Thanks for the tea.” She pulls her hands from mine, then stands and looks at me before brushing down her jeans and reaching for her jumper.

And she’s going to go, walk out of this house, and I won’t see her again.

And I can’t lose her.

My chest tightens, and I look at her. Her hands shake as she holds the jumper, and she’s not looking at me. Her gaze is on the doorway.

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