Page 62 of Decoded
Please be there. Don’t be too late. You can’t let her leave believing you don’t want her.
When I reach the guesthouse, I knock on the door. “Anna,” I call out. She steps into the living space, and I see her for the first time in days. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail, putting her full cheeks on display. She’s wearing a pair of black loungers with a light blue scoop neck shirt that lets me steal a peek at her incredible cleavage. I give her a smile and raise my hand up in a greeting. But she turns to her bedroom. And she shuts the door.
It’s been ten minutes since I knocked. Ten minutes since I shouted her name. Ten minutes since I laid eyes on my girl. Ten minutes of standing in the pouring rain. Ten minutes to regret everything I’ve said and done since Daniel Fucking Brenner showed up at my company and wrecked our world.
Then the door opens.
She stands there in the doorway, arms crossed like she’s holding herself together. Her eyes are tired. Guarded. Not angry. Empty. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask me in.
I deserve that.
“Hey, Baby.” She goes to shut the door on me, but I reach out and catch it.
“Anna, I’m sorry. I’m not here to ask you to forgive me,” I say, the words catching like gravel in my throat. “I just couldn’t let the last thing I said to you be a lie.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me like I’m some stranger who used to wear the face of someone she loved.
“When I sent those messages to you, I was in a dark place. All I could picture was you with him and it broke me.”
“You broke me,” she barely whispers.
“And I’m so sorry for that, Baby.” She crosses her arms at me, and I correct myself, knowing I deserve the right to lose the endearment. “Sorry, Anna. If you never want to see me again, I’ll walk away. But I need you to hear the truth, even if it’s too late to matter. The truth is that I didn’t mean it when I said that I didn’t want to love you anymore. I lied. I lied because I was hurting. I lied because I wanted you to hurt, too.”
Her eyes flash at me, furious and wounded. “And I did. Congratulations.”
I flinch but continue, “I lied when I said that because the truth, Anna, the truth is that there’s not a moment since you crashed into my life that I haven’t been in love with you. The moment I saw you at the airport, I knew you were perfect for me. When you helped me overcome my fear of flying.”
She lifts her eyebrows at me.
“Okay, maybe overcome is too strong a word. But when you were there offering me comfort, I was in love. I was in love with you when I saw you glowing in the lights of the fountains at the hotel. And when you had us racing down to the sidewalk so you could experience Paris. I was in love with you when I said ‘I Do’ in that chapel. I was in love with you when I woke up the next morning and had to leave. And I was in love with you even when I knew that you were very much not in love with me.
“And if that’s still the case, I still want you to know. I want you to know that I love you so much that I reach out for you when Iwake up in the morning. I love you so much that I’ve had to work out of Lincoln’s office this week because your empty desk and your absence is all that consumes me when I’m in mine. I love you so much that I’m standing here in the pouring rain begging for you to listen to me. Even though I don’t deserve it. Even though I didn’t offer you the same respect. I’m standing here because I’m so fucking in love with you, Anna Keith.”
She stares at me as the rain continues to pour down. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“That’s okay, Baby. I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that still feels something, still wants to believe in what we were, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that.”
She stands there, contemplating me and my words as the rain continues to bead down my face. Then she turns and walks away.
But she leaves the door open.
Chapter forty-two
Anna
W
hen I arrived at Keaton’s place, I could hardly pack up the first box. Every piece I picked up was like a fragment of the life I was losing. My heartache was slowing me down until I let the grief completely consume me and I curled up in the bed we once shared and shed tears over the life and love I was losing.
But then the anger set in. Why am I the one blaming myself for something a cruel man did to me? I didn’t ask for Daniel to touch me. I didn’t ask him to show up here in Cheatham and detonate a bomb on my life. And who the hell did Keaton think he was? He didn’t want to look at me. Didn’t want to speak to me. Didn't want to love me anymore if his drunken words were true. Like I was the one who somehow orchestrated this whole fiasco.
So when the handsome man I drunkenly married showed up at the guest house as I was packing the last of my things, I let him stand there. And when it started raining, I let the rain soak his stupidly attractive body. For a little while, anyway. And when Iopened the door it was only to give him back his key and tell him goodbye.
But I needed his words. I needed to hear what he had to say. I needed him to know that I was angry and hurt. And I needed to hear that he didn't mean what he said. That he still loves me.
So, I leave the door open. The literal one at the front of the guest house and the metaphorical one to my heart.
I tell myself it’s the rain.
