Page 95 of Say You Want Me
“I love him,” I admit. “I never stopped loving him, but he hurt me so much.”
“Love is the strongest and most beautiful thing we can bestow on another person. Have mercy in your heart, Angie. Be gracious enough to see that he wasn’t hurting you because he didn’t love you, sugar. He was hurting himself because he didn’t think he was worthy of your love. You think about that, and we’ll talk soon. Take care now.” She disconnects before I can say another word.
I walk to the window and look at him. Are we being stupid or do we have the ability to find a way back to what we were?
After my call with Mrs. Kannan, I start seeing things in a new light. Each time Wyatt talks to me, I try to really hear him and not just listen to the words.
We have dinner together, and then he kisses me on the cheek and goes back to his apartment. I can’t stop thinking about what she said. Thinking about how I can find a way to fully forgive him.
I’m getting ready for bed when my phone dings.
Wyatt: Can I borrow some salt?
I look at the text, unsure if I should respond. But I lean back against the headboard, which is against the wall that touches his apartment. He’s right there on the other side. It’s crazy that right now he’s this close and yet he’s so far.
Me: I think you’re supposed to ask for sugar.
Wyatt: Then let me borrow some of that, too.
He’s a mess. A very cute mess. I talked to Presley today, and she told me about their talk. I was surprised she went off, but she also said she’d never seen him like that. I feel like I’m not only resisting Wyatt, I’m resisting the entire town of Bell Buckle.
Me: It’s late.
Wyatt: It is, but I really need that salt.
Me: What the hell do you need salt for at eleven o’clock at night?
Wyatt: I’m making something.
This could go on forever, but I’m actually having fun. Talking to him like this reminds me of our time together. The bickering, the back and forth, it made us who we were.
Me: I’m all out of salt.
Wyatt: Then I have to ask you something about my jackass brother and Presley’s wedding. I figure since we’re both going, maybe we should make arrangements.
Me: The wedding is in a few months. You’ll be gone by then.
Wyatt: Not unless you’re going with me.
Me: You’re not going to stop this until you see me tonight, are you?
Wyatt: Not likely.
I figured as much. I have to give him credit for persistence.
Me: You’re a pain in my ass.
Wyatt: Open the door, baby.
I stare at the screen for a minute. My legs don’t seem to move. I can’t explain it, but I feel like opening or not opening this door is a decision about something that I won’t be able to undo.
I thought maybe he’d have left by now, but each day he materializes, stays all afternoon, and then finds a way to see me later. He hasn’t pushed me other than by seeing me everywhere. And in the last eight days, I’ve been smiling. I haven’t cried, and I’ve had a sense of calm.
Damn it.
Here goes nothing.
I open the door, and Wyatt is already standing there in a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt. My mind has trouble firing any thoughts about resisting as I stare at him. His muscles are taut, his chest broad, and now there’s something even sexier on his body. Wyatt got a massive tattoo on his arm.
