Page 38 of Hidden Vows
“Hey,” I whisper as I open the door to Jude. There’s no reason for me to whisper. I can’t disturb anyone else when the only apartments in this hall are mine and Jude’s.
“Hey.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his shoulders shrugging slightly. “I know it’s late, but I didn’t make it into the store earlier, and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” His voice is so quiet and soft it almost makes me melt. I lean against the door instead.
“You took a chance I was still up?” I smirk, ensuring he knowsI’m kidding.
His smile in return is small, but it still does something to my insides. “I heard the TV. I thought I’d take a chance.”
“Things were good at the store. They finished with all the demolition today. They need to finish hauling out all the debris, and then they can start rebuilding.”
Staring at him now, I can’t stop my thoughts from reeling. How is this man still ingrained in my soul? How can I still be so comfortable with him after everything that happened?
He more than broke my heart seventeen years ago—he broke my spirit, and I’m not sure I ever really got it back. And yet…
“Do you want to come in?” I ask softly.
“I don’t want to keep you up. I just…” His words trail off, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he doesn’t know what he wants to say or because he’s trying to respect my wish to only focus on the bookstore.
“I’m not really tired yet. Which honestly amazes me.” I chuckle. “I’ve been getting up and helping the crew downstairs every day this week.”
“It’s probably the excitement of everything.” He shrugs. “You’re getting everything you dreamed of. It’s exciting.”
“Not quite everything,” I whisper. How can I still love him? Want him?
“Abbey.” His smile falls, and he pulls a hand from his pocket, lifting it to cup my cheek. He moves so slowly, and I know it’s because he’s giving me time to move away, but I can’t. I need his touch more than I thought I would.
My eyes fall closed the second his skin touches mine. This isn’t the first time we’ve touched since he came home, but this is different. This is more than a simple touch; it’s comfort in a way I haven’t felt since he left.
I lift my hand, holding his in place as I turn my head slightly, letting my lips rest against his palm. I should flinch at the roughness of his palm, at the callouses I feel, but I don’t. All they do is remind me of all the years I felt those callouses—all the years I knew exactly what he did to get those callouses, and all I want now is to know where the ones currently caressing my face came from as I relish the way they feel against my skin.
I don’t see him, but I feel him as he steps into me, leaving only inches of space between us. “Abbey,” he whispers. “I’ll do everything in my power to give you all your dreams. Every last one of them.” The conviction in his voice has me opening my eyes.
I don’t let go of his hand, still holding it against my cheek as I tilt my face to look at him. What are my dreams now? It’s true I always wanted to open a café, but there was a time when my only real dream was spending my life with Jude. I truly didn’t care what we did or where we were; I was happy as long as we were together.
But that wasn’t fair to Jude, was it? Putting all my hopes and dreams on the two of us being together. That wasn’t fair to me either. I should’ve had dreams outside of the two of us. I should’ve always been my own person.
I guess I thought I had been, but looking back on it now, I lived for the time I got to spend with Jude, and I can’t help but wonder if he gave up some of his dreams and wishes to make mine come true.
“What about your dreams?”
“My dream is you.” I swear his voice breaks on the word you, but he says it so softly I convince myself I imagined it.
I pull his hand from my cheek, holding it between us, trying to soften my next words. “We can’t be each other’s dreams, not anymore.”
“Abbey—”
“No,” I interrupt. “We can’t. We have to have dreams of our own. Dreams that have nothing to do with the other person. If the past has taught me anything, we can’t rely solely on someone else.”
His eyes fall to our clasped hands. “It’s not wrong to lean on others for help.”
“I know,” I whisper, finally able to read the word across the knuckles on his right hand.WISH, what an appropriate word for this moment. “I’m not saying we can’t rely on other people. I’m saying we can’t relyonlyon other people. We have to be able to support ourselves. To go after our own wants and needs without leaning on someone else to get us to the finish line.”
His eyes soften and I just know the next words out of his mouth. “Abbey, I?—”
“Were you with your dad today?” I ask before he can say anything else.
His eyes bounce between mine, and I see the regret pooling in their depths, but I’m not in a place to hear those words. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to hear those words from him again.
No, that’s not right.
