Page 90 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

So as the minutes quietly trickled by, I let myself absorb that reality. There would be work ahead of me. Work to rebuild andrestructure my relationships. Work to carve time for myself, and to stop acting like a martyr because that’s where I was most comfortable.

And I thought about Sean.

Things hadn’t worked out between us, but I wouldn’t begrudge him for it. I’d known from the beginning that it would never work between us. Still, he’d made me realize that I deserved more. He’d treated me like a queen—until he hadn’t.

Maybe, with time, I would forget how his hands felt when they coasted over my skin, and I’d be able to smile and make pleasant conversation with him while he integrated into our family.

I’d find my own way to happiness.

It was a bittersweet kind of New Year’s resolution for me. The past couple of months had felt like a rebirth: I’d realized I deserved more. But maybe I didn’t deserve quite as much as I’d thought. I could have hobbies and a life and an identity beyond my children—but I couldn’t have the impossibly attractive man and the nights of passion and sex.

From where I sat, in my comfortable home, next to my sleeping children, waiting for the next year to arrive, it felt like a fair trade.

And then I heard the engine.

Frowning when it cut off, I turned toward the sound of a car door slamming. By the time the knock on the door came, I was standing in the living room archway with my heart thumping hard.

I knew it was him before I opened the door. Don’t ask me how; I just did.

He looked just as beautiful as he always had, with his short hair and turquoise eyes. The lips that had torn my body and soul to pieces parted, and he said my name on a breath: “Lizzie.”

My heart rattled. “Sean.”

He gulped. Tension stretched between us, and I didn’t know how to break it. I didn’t know if I should.

Finally, I cracked. “What are you doing here?”

Sean blinked at me and let out a huff of breath, as if he was asking himself that exact question. He closed his eyes for a beat, then lifted his gaze to mine. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Oh,” I managed through the vise clamped around my throat.

“I pursued you, and then I left you out in the cold when I should have defended you. I left you standing there on your own when the one thing you needed was to have someone at your back.”

I breathed in then out again, motionless. He spoke the words plainly, like he was reading them from where they’d been carved into my heart.

“I hurt you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

My eyes watered, and I nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”

I let out a noise that was half laugh, half sob. “I’m not sure what I deserve anymore.”

He reached for me, then let his hand drop back to his side. When I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze, his face was drawn. He shook his head and whispered, “You deserve the world. You deserve everything good, Lizzie. More than I can give you.”

I didn’t think there was a part of my heart that hadn’t been bruised until he said those words. It was the confirmation that he didn’t want me, that we would never be together. I’d known it, of course. I’d told myself those very words over and over again throughout the past week. Ibelievedthem—or at least I thought I did.

But until Sean spoke them aloud, I hadn’t realized that there was a part of me that hoped there’d be a way for us to come back to each other. That there was some sliver of connection worth fighting for.

But he couldn’t give me what he thought I deserved. He didn’t want to be that man for me.

Knowing this was my new reality, I straightened my spine as best I could and buried this final hurt deep in my heart. “Don’t blame yourself too much, Sean,” I told him, my voice surprisingly steady. “We got carried away. I know the holidays have always been tough for you. We all egged you on to find a New Year’s kiss, and it’s no surprise it blew up in everyone’s faces. I got caught up in the attention you gave me, and?—”

“Lizzie. Stop.”

Blinking, I realized I’d been staring at his throat, so I dragged my gaze back up to his face. Sean’s eyes were wild.

“What?” I said. “You don’t have to—it’s okay, Sean. I’m not going to stand in the way of your friendship with my brother. You taught me a lot about myself, and I’ll always be thankful. But you and me? We’re good. We can just go back to the way things were. You said it yourself; it was a mistake to get involved?—”

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