Page 83 of A Play For The Heart
“I went to Notre Dame, I’m not an idiot. But also, therapy. You should try it.” There isn’t much you can say to either point, so Jack yields and focuses back on me.
“I don’t want to admit it, but Monroe has a point.” Deon sighs and Declan shoots Jack a smirk, and I know the old Declan hasn’t entirely left. The cocky part is still in there somewhere. “Maybe just tell her the truth and pray to the universe that she forgives your dumb ass.”
“I was hoping for something a little more…romantic,” I murmur. She deserves the grand gesture.
The flight attendants announce take off on the loudspeaker, momentarily silencing our conversation. They make their way down the aisles, checking everything before moving to the back of the plane before take-off.
Declan turns to me. “She doesn’t want the romantic gesture. She wants real.”
I sit on that comment. Real.
I can give her real.
Standing on the other side of the door, I feel like I might faint. Or shit my pants. Or a combination of both. That would be quite a sight. I spent the entire flight planning out what I want to say. How I want to apologize. Now that I’m standing here, every single thing I came up with flutters away, leaving my brain empty. I am terrified, but I’ve got one shot to win back my girl, and I plan on doing just that. I just might go into cardiac arrest in the process. Finding the tiniest sliver of nerve, I knock on the door. I hold my breath, hoping Sawyer answers the door. I am not that lucky.
The door swings open and standing on the other side, Maren’s looking at me with boredom. Before getting to know her, I would shrug it off as apathy. But to Maren, a look of boredom is worse than being annoyed. She’s written me off. The thought that she no longer cares causes my stomach to plummet like a roller coaster ride from hell. Does Sawyer feel the same? Am I too late?
“Henry,” she drawls, leaning on the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance to the apartment. For the first time, I’m noticing how tall she is. I can’t see around her and into the apartment. Which is her intention. “What did I do for you to show up at my door?”
“Is Sawyer home?” I ask.
It's late. Not past Sawyer’s normal bedtime, but late enough for her to be home. I shift to peer into the apartment, praying for a glimpse of blonde hair, but Maren only mirrors me. I watch her smirk. She’s enjoying this. If I didn’t need her help seeing Sawyer, I would shoot her a dirty look.
“Where Sawyer is doesn’t concern you.”
“Please,” I nearly beg. I’m itching to see her. Apologize to her. Make her mine.
“Have you finally pulled your head from your ass?”
Jeez, she doesn’t pull any punches. I can’t argue with her, though. My head was far up my ass.
“Yeah… I—Look, I’m here to apologize and win her back.” Might as well lay it all out on the table and let Maren decide if she’s on board with my plan. I mentally cross my fingers, hoping she lets me in.
“In her room,” she says, standing off to the side, permitting me entrance into the apartment. I slip off my shoes and begin to head towards her room, when she grabs me by the elbow, stopping me in my tracks. “One shot, Parker.”
With that thinly veiled threat, she releases me and disappears into her room. I walk in the opposite direction, my stomach full of rocks.
I take one deep breath, praying to every god out there.
Then, I knock.
CHAPTER 35
“If honesty means telling you the truth, well, I’m still in love with you”
Still—Niall Horan
Sawyer
Iheartheknockat my door and groan. “Maren, I already told you, I’m not going—” The words fall from my mouth the moment I look over at the door. Curly brown hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Tan skin and corded muscles. I nearly fall over at the sight of Henry standing in my doorway. For a brief moment, I forget the heartache and pain and self-doubt he planted in my brain.
I hate that part of me still goes warm in his presence. That my heart races when he touches me. I hate that I love him so deeply, even though he broke me so thoroughly. Worst of all, I hate the part of me that hopes he’s here to say he wants me.
My mouth goes dry and my brain empties, except for one word.
Henry.
“I—Uh. Can I come in?”
