Page 78 of The Loves We Lost
He moves his hand, and while I’m grateful that he listened to what I said, I feel the absence immediately. “I’m gonna be straight with you, Vi. You did a number on me when you left like you did. And I vowed that when I saw you again, the only thing I was gonna get out of you was why the fuck you walked out on me. Why you just gave up on us.”
My heart lurches in my chest, and I’m not so foolish that I don’t realize why. It’s because I’m slightly panicked that he might take this in a direction we can’t recover from. “I’m sorry that it hurt. I’m not sorry I did it. We’d run out of things tosay. You wouldn’t leave the club and were just waiting for me to get used to the idea and pick you. I didn’t want a relationship while you were in the club, and I was waiting for you to get used to the idea. To pick me. Someone had to break the stalemate, and it wouldn’t be you. You were just so stubborn, so certain I’d capitulate and it would all be fine. You weren’t listening to me. And that worried me, because as relationships go, feeling listened to is a big deal for me.”
Miles leans back in his chair and takes hold of my hand. “So let’s have that conversation. Today. Get Avery an overnight playdate, I’ll cook dinner, and we’ll see if we can’t figure this out.”
Tears sting my eyes. “What’s the point, Miles? The big things haven’t changed. Look at the state of you. You’ve been physically beaten to within an inch of your life. I don’t want that. And you don’t want this. Not really. You don’t want a house in the suburbs, no cut, no club.”
“But what if we forgot all that for a second. If we start as Miles and Viola. Can we admit we still have feelings for each other?”
I take a deep breath. Then another. I don’t want to concede ground.
“I’ll start. I still want you, Vi. Always have. That’s why it hurt so much to lose you. Because I know I’d never find anyone quite as perfect for me. And to find out you raised our daughter by yourself? Sure, I’m pissed. But I’m also really fucking proud of you, and of her. She’s incredible. And ours. And she needs a sibling really fucking badly. I’ve been dreaming about knocking you up again so that I get to experience it this time. And while I’d love for her to look like you, I’m also fucking stoked that my girl looks so like me that we’re basically twins. So, that’s me being honest.”
His words wash over me, words I’ve dreamed of hearing from him, about me, about Avery. “You’re glossing over the hard bits.”
Miles turns his chair to face mine and takes my hands. “If we start with the hard bits, we won’t get anywhere. Let’s start with the bits that matter most. If you tell me that you don’t want me, I think I could just about keep my shit together enough to get on the bike and drive back to Asbury Park, and find a way to live my life with only Avery in it. But you tell me that you do ... You tell me that you still want me in your bed at night, making you feel the magic we feel when we’re together. You tell me you want a sibling for Avery. You tell me that you want a man to take care of you after all this time being alone. Financially. Emotionally. Sexually. You tell me all that, and I’m staying so we can figure out the rest. Because that’s a really fucking solid foundation to build on.”
I think about moments like this. Of honesty between us. I think about Avery and my desire for another child. “What if at the end of it all, I still can’t handle your involvement in the club?”
“Let’s not start there.”
“I feel like I’m gonna get my heart broken all over again if I go through this with you. Because it broke my heart to leave you the first time.”
“Get Avery that playdate,” Bates says.
It takes an hour to arrange everything and for me to drop Avery off at her friend Lucy’s house.
When I return home, it’s only four o’clock, but the hour was enough time to realize both Miles and I have changed since our breakup. We understand life differently than the way we did back then. Miles appears less reckless, despite his recent injuries. And maybe I’m braver.
Deep conversation requires candles and darkness, but it’s still light when I get out of the car.
I step into the house, and there’s music playing. I guess Miles connected his phone to my speakers. Lana Del Rey is singing about how someone can be a part of your past and then become a part of your future. He remembered how much I love her music.
And god, how badly I want a man who remembers. A man who remembers the song that played when we danced the first time. A man who remembers how I like my eggs and when I have a dental appointment that I might need a ride home from. A man who remembers how to get me off and my favorite Christmas movie and why I prefer perfumes with citrus notes when he buys me birthday gifts.
I can almost fall into Miles for this simple act alone.
Nothing is resolved, but I almost believe that we can find a way.
Or maybe I’m beginning to think I’m not that scared girl anymore.
There’s a note on the floor by the entrance.
I’m in the shower. Join me.
It’s not a request, but then Miles never had to ask me. I liked it when he took control. Maybe it’s time to let him, because my way certainly hasn’t worked.
The sound of falling water gets louder as I approach the bathroom. Wetness seeps between my legs in anticipation of what I’m going to find. When I open the bathroom door, I’m not disappointed.
Miles is beneath the shower, his wet hair pushed back from his face. His body is bruised and scarred. He’s still healing.
And he’s still the most attractive man I have ever seen. The last time he was naked in this bathroom, I thought he was at risk of dying. Now, I have time to simply look. Whoever did his ink is supremely talented. There is a skull on his chest with hands covering the eye sockets. It’s so realistic, it’s both chilling and beautiful. Down his arm are lines of numbers. There is noconsistency among them. Some might be dates; some don’t have enough digits to be.
When he notices me, he steps towards me, water running down his face, his chest, the tight lines of the V that lead down to his heavy erection. And he cups my cheeks and kisses me. It’s slow and drugging. Deep and electrifying.
Time slows. Water seeps through my clothes. Miles slips his hands beneath the hem of my T-shirt and tugs it over my head. I wish I’d put on something sexier than the plain white cotton bra, but it doesn’t matter because in seconds, it’s gone too.
My shorts and panties follow quickly as Miles kneels in front of me. Hands grip the back of my thighs as he does the unexpected: he places his forehead to my pussy and just breathes in.
