Page 28 of Love, Take Two
"Why not?"
I consider that question, watching the way candlelight plays across her face.
"Pride, mostly," I admit. "And fear that admitting struggle would damage the brand I've worked so hard to build. But also because I didn't have anyone I trusted enough to be that vulnerable with."
"And now?" she asks quietly.
"Now I do," I say, meeting her eyes across the flickering candlelight. "You always were the person I could tell anything to."
"Why did we break up?" she asks, her voice careful. "I mean, we know the official story about different post-graduation plans, but what was happening?"
I'm quiet for a long moment, thinking about that last month of college when everything between us started feeling strained.
"Fear, I think," I say finally. "We were both scared that we wanted different things, but instead of talking about it honestly, we started pulling back from each other."
"I remember that," she says softly. "Everything suddenly felt so serious and permanent, and I started panicking about whether I was ready for that level of commitment."
"And I started feeling like I was holding you back from the stable career track you wanted," I add. "All those conversations about post-graduation plans made me feel like my travel dreams were selfish or unrealistic."
"But they weren't," she says with conviction. "Look what you've built. You turned those dreams into a successful career."
"And you turned your need for stability into something even better—creating security on your own terms instead of depending on someone else for it," I counter.
"We were just kids," she observes. "Twenty-two years old and terrified of making the wrong choice about forever."
"Twenty-two-year-old us probably made the right choice," I say, and mean it.
"And now?" she asks, echoing her earlier question but with deeper implications this time.
"Now I think we might be ready for what we were too scared to try then," I say honestly. "The question is whether you feel the same way."
Before she can answer, lightning illuminates the entire suite with brilliant white light, followed immediately by thunder that's so loud it seems to shake the building.
"This storm is incredible," Vada says, moving to the windows to watch rain lashing against the glass in torrential sheets.
I join her at the windows, standing close enough that I can feel her warmth while we watch nature's power display over the ocean. The resort has essentially disappeared into the darkness, leaving us feeling completely isolated in our candlelit sanctuary.
"It's beautiful," I say, though I'm looking at her reflection in the glass more than the storm outside.
"Very beautiful," she agrees, turning to face me.
Standing this close, with candlelight shadows and the storm providing a dramatic soundtrack, this talk about finally being ready for the real thing feels inevitable.
"Emory," she says, my name barely a whisper.
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm ready for what we were too scared to try back then," she says, echoing my earlier words but making them a confession instead of a question.
"You think?" I ask, stepping closer until there's no space between us.
"I know," she corrects, looking up at me with green eyes that are completely certain. “Guess I was always up for this. Just talked myself into thinking it wouldn't work with you.”
"And now?" I ask, though I can guess the answer from the way she's looking at me.
"Now I think practical is overrated," she says with a smile that makes my heart race. "Totally worth the gamble.”
Leaning in to kiss her felt…this kiss felt different. More serious, like we were actually deciding we wanted this, not just caught up in the vibe.
