Page 179 of Lost Track

He downed the last of the wine and started wrestling the trash into the bag and tying it closed. She left him to it and brought the plate of naked cookies and the bowl of frosting to the couch.

“What are we watching tonight?” She called over her shoulder. “Are we sticking with tradition?” She hoped so, she’d cued upScroogedin anticipation.

“Sabine, can you come here a second?” André called from the doorway.

“Ugh. I should’ve taken it out myself. Freaking teetotaler can’t hold his pink wine.” She made it to the door and André was standing there with the trash bag in his hand. He had the strangest look on his face.

“There’s someone here for you,” he said, and pushed the door all the way open.

Sabine’s heart turned over in her chest.

Dave.

Standing at her door. Looking lost and broken.

“Dave…” she whispered, approaching him. She pressed a hand to her heart to keep it from jumping out of her chest and leaving her for good.

He’s here.

He’s here.

He’s here.

“I just needed to see you. Even if…” Dave exhaled heavily.

André patted her shoulder and went back inside the loft.

Her heart strained against her insides. It wanted to climb out and hug Dave with every ounce of love it had beating through it.

She pulled the door closed behind her and they went into the hallway for some privacy. He sat down with his back to the wall and his legs stretched out before him. She took a seat near his hip, facing him.

She swallowed the tears that threatened to take over.

He’s here.

If he was here, then it was going to be okay. She wasn’t sure how she knew that for sure. It was like his heart was speaking to hers and they had decided between them that it was all going to be just fine.

She reached for him and curved her hand over his cheek. He leaned against her palm.

Those deep blue eyes looked back at her with turmoil and fear, and her broken heart squeezed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not waiting another moment to tell him. She had no idea if he’d gotten any of her messages, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered is that he was there, right there. And she could tell him she was sorry.

“I should have never gone into your home without you,” she said. She blinked and a tear rolled down one cheek.

He brushed it away with his thumb.

“I wanted to be able to explain,” he whispered, his eyes glossing over.

She nodded. It wasn’t that she needed an explanation.Heneeded it. To make the ends match. To put it in order in his own head.

All she had to do was let him.

“Do you—” He wiped under his eyes and looked away, shame coloring his cheeks. He took a heavy breath and tried again. “Do you feel differently? About me?” His voice broke and he wouldn’t look at her.

Her heart caught in her throat. “No,” she replied, and punctuated it with a kiss to his mouth.

He seemed shocked by her reaction, but she was desperate to convince him that nothing would ever make her feel different about him.

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