Page 113 of If It Can't Be Us

I sigh. Is there any harm in agreeing to do this? It’s three minutes of my time, and it seems important to him.

Vivian:Okay…

He sends a link to a James Arthur song, one of my favorites. I click on it because I agreed to listen right now, even though I already know the song by heart.

I push play on “Say You Won’t Let Go,” and by the first chorus, I’m in tears. Waves of emotion rush over me as he sings about knowing his love but hiding it out of fear, needing someone but never showing it, and wanting to stay together until we’re old.

As the song continues, I’m hit with a mix of emotions as he sings about waking up to breakfast in bed, bringing coffee with a kiss, and the simple joy of taking the kids to school.

I imagine a life filled with love and gratitude, even in the small, everyday moments. A lump forms in my throat as I picture us growing old side by side, supporting each other through everything. Tears stream down my face as I imagine that kind of love, hoping against hope that it’s not just a dream or something that was once had, but is now gone forever.

The song ends, and I stare at the lyrics on my phone, reading them over and over, trying to comprehend what this means. Is this Leo’s way of telling me he loves me? Is he promising me these things? Or is it just a song that reminded him of us, without him being able to say these things or commit? My phone vibrates.

Leo:Did you listen to the song?

Vivian:Yes. It’s a beautiful song… one of my favorites.

Leo:Good…

Good? What the hell?

Leo:Now will you come and answer the door so I can show you what those lyrics truly mean?

A laugh escapes my lips as I practically run out of the office and down the stairs, wiping at my tears as I go. Swinging the door open, I find Leo standing there, looking incredible as he always does.

A soft smile lies on his face. “Hey, Viv,” he says coolly, with a hand in his pocket.

I let out a breathy “hi”, trying to hide the new wave of emotion hitting me all at once. Pregnancy making everything more difficult.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he sighs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been so bloody stupid. This past month without you has been torture.” He looks down, shifting his weight, trying to pull himself together. When he meets my eyes again, they’re glassy with unshed tears. “I missed your smile… and your laugh… the way your eyes light up when you’re excited.”

He takes a shaky breath, his gaze locking onto mine. “I love you, Vivian. I love the way you’re always thinking of others, how you come upwith your own words or phrases, your obsessive organization, and how you take over my kitchen like it’s yours. I love your wit, your humor, your stubborn determination… you’re fucking incredible. I love everything about you. And I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

He laughs softly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “I’m not even sure when I fell in love with you. I just did. Somewhere between you giving me shit, our morning coffee chats, hearing you laugh, watching you sleep…”

He pauses, taking a step closer. “And making love to you,” he takes another step, closing the gap between us until I feel the heat of his body merge with mine. “Because that’s what it’s been. In Paris… that wasn’t just sex for me. That was the first time I’ve ever really made love to someone, and I’ll never forget that night as long as I live.”

Tears of joy stream down my cheeks. He takes my hands in his, looking deeply into my eyes.

“I love you, Vivian Walker. This past month has shown me just how much you mean to me. I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect partner or that I’ll want to get married.”

My heart sinks at those words.

“But I can promise I’ll be here for you, that I’ll love you every step of the way, that I’ll try, and that I’m committed to you. Whether you’re my girlfriend, my life partner, or someday, my wife—none of those labels matter to me. What matters is that you’re beside me in life until I take my last fucking breath.”

He searches my eyes as he waits for me to respond, toying with my fingers, stroking them gently. I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t find the words. He said he loves me. I knew he did, but hearing him say it changes everything. He’s confronting his past, moving forward, and he’s ready to commit to being with me.

He waits, patient and hopeful, looking for anything, an answer, a confession, a nod… something.

The words are stuck in my throat, so I answer him the only way I can right now. I lean in and kiss him, pouring all my feelings into it. His lips are warm and soft, responding with a gentle intensity that speaks volumes. And it feels so damn good. The kiss deepens, and I wrap myarms around his neck, giving him everything I have. The connection between us solidifies, a silent promise that we we’ll face whatever comes together.

I pull back, cupping his face in my hands. “I love you too. God, I love you so much!”

We kiss for several minutes, lost in the moment and each other’s tender touches. His hands slide up my back as I thread my fingers through his hair, the silky strands slipping between them. He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to my forehead before resting his forehead against mine, sharing breath like we’ve done dozens of times before. I close my eyes, savoring the moment—the rhythm of his breathing, the lingering scent of his cologne, the soft stroke of his thumb against my cheek. I never want to forget this.

“Viv,” he says softly, “will you move in with me?”

I simply nod. I don’t open my eyes, I don’t speak, I don’t look at him, afraid to find this is all a dream. All I can do is just be in this moment, and there is nothing I want more than to move in with him.

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