Page 83 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
He flinches. “I’m so sorry.”
“It took me a long time to recover from losing you.”And I’m not sure I actually did.
“Me too.”
“Please don’t compare us,” I say. “You have no idea how much you hurt me.”
Color rises in his cheeks just above the line of scruff and he runs a finger along the edge of the table. “It’s hard for me to admit this, but I sometimes got embarrassed by myfamily back then. Especially when I compared them to yours. Which is so stupid, and I know that now.” He pauses, drawing his hand into a fist. “My folks are good people. They’re hardworking. Loyal and smart. No one loves harder than they do. Just we don’t trace our roots back to the Mayflower—” He cuts himself off, then meets my gaze again. “Anyway. I couldn’t stop thinking the Hathaways would always see the Fullers as … less.”
“So you broke up with me as some kind of noble means to protect your family? Does that make my parents the villains?”
“No.” Three works his jaw from side to side. “I’m not trying to be the good guy here. There was a selfishness underneath everything I did. I can own that now. I was just a kid with a chip on my shoulder. And I didn’t want to spend my life going down a road with you where I was always coming up short.”
“You never came up short for me.” I swipe at a tear cresting in my eye. “You still don’t.”
“Well, losing you is what stoked a fire in me to make something of myself. That pain was my fuel. Without it, I may never have ended up being Mr. Fuller at Abieville High. So I guess that’s something good that came from a dark time.”
“Great.” A harsh cry slips out of me. “I just wish I’d known the truth.”
“If you’d known, our lives would be totally different now. Would you want that?”
“I guess we’ll never find out.” My lip trembles, so I capture it with my teeth to stop the shake. “And now it’s too late.”
Three reaches for my hand, eyes boring into mine like bright blue lasers. “Is it?”
The two-word question sends my heart straight into orbit, and my mouth goes slack. “What?”
“Is it really too late for us?”
Hot tingles course through my body even as my skin breaks into chills. Is Three actually suggesting he might be open to some kind of second-chance with me? And if so, could I even trust him? The thought is terrifying. A decade ago, I took my heart out of mychest, cradled it in my palm, and handed it over to him. Then he dropped it. Right on Main Street. In the days that followed, I swore I’d never risk that kind of rejection again. And I’ve kept that promise to myself all this time.
But at what cost?
“Sara.” He presses my fingers.
“You know what? It’s been a long day.” I pull my hand away, pushing back my chair, and stumbling to my feet. “Actually, it’s been a long ten years.” This is all too much to process, and I need a distraction to keep from losing it. As my brain clicks into practical mode, I shove all other emotions aside. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t go.”
Without answering him, I lurch to the kitchen to get his evening dose of antibiotics. Three may have just short-circuited my nervous system, but I’m still in charge of his health and safety. Not to mention, I still love him. And my love will always be bigger than anything else.
When I return, I hand him the pill and a glass of water like a robot on autopilot. “Here. Take this.”
“Sara. Please.”
Please what?my insides scream.What more could you possibly want from me?
Before I can ask him that, though, I have to figure out whatIwant.
“I just need to be alone right now,” I say. My words are a jagged plea. “To think.”
“Take all the time you need.”
When his voice breaks a little on the wordneed, I almost fall to my knees and tell him the past is all water under the bridge. That we can just be together now, forever. Our own little second-chance romance, just like every Hallmark Christmas movie I’ve ever seen.
But I can’t. Not yet.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ve got this.” He nods to indicate the table. “The dishes. Theleftovers. All of it.”
