He was staring at that in between space. At the floor, at his memories, I wasn’t sure. He pulled his hand away and swallowed hard. “I get it. I do. I understand. Thank you,” he mumbled. “For talking tonight. It was good to clear the air. And maybe now I can move on.”

Wait a minute...

“Derek, stop,” I said, maybe a little more harshly than I’d intended.

His gaze darted to mine, but he recoiled a little.

This right here. This right here, where he assumes the worst, shuts up like a clam and withdraws into himself... ugh. Frustrating as hell.

But he was trying.

And he did say what was on his mind earlier, and he’d said it well. Even though it was hard for him.

I could see he was trying.

“Derek, what do you want?” I asked. “Tell me right now. What did you come here for? Give me your best-case scenario.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. I wanted...” He licked his lips and tried again. “I wanted you to not hate me. I wanted you to forgive me. To tell me it was okay. To tell me you...”

“To tell you what?”

He winced again, but man, my emotions were running high, my patience was worn thin. “You wanted me to tell you what, Derek? Enough of the not-saying-shit out loud. We’re not kids anymore. So no more childish games. We’re adults.” Goddammit. I was mad now, and I tried to keep my voice down. “We need to be able to say shit out loud. So tell me. What did you want me to tell you?”

“I wanted you to tell me you still loved me!”

His outburst was made louder by the silence that followed. He sucked back a breath that was a half sob. “I wanted you to tell me you never moved on. Like I hadn’t. I wanted you to tell me there was a hole in your life like there was in mine. I wanted you to tell me you still loved me because I’m still in love with you. I tried not to be, and I thought I’d just made up this illusion of who you were, like you were some perfect guy, and I hoped I’d get here and realise it wasn’t true. You couldn’t possibly be as perfect as I remembered, but then I get here and...” He waved his hand at me, up and down. “You’re more perfect than I remember.”

Oh wow.

Okay. I wasn’t expecting the L word... considering he couldn’t even tell me that when we were together.

“And it’s made everything so much worse,” he added quietly. “Because now I know. Now I know that you are everything I need, but it’s too late.” He let his head fall back, blinking and trying to breathe through his tears. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to saying this shit out loud. God, it hurts.”

I tried to steady my breaths. My heart was hammering, aching.

I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to turn up at all. Least of all pouring his heart out to me in ways he’d never been able to before. I hadn’t expected him to still love me.

I hadn’t expected to welcome hearing it. It made me happy. Cautiously, maybe even sceptically. But happy, nonetheless.

“Do you think you could get used to saying it?” I asked, threading his fingers with mine.

He looked at me, confusion mixed with hope in his dark eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know what the answers are, Derek. But seeing you here...” I shook my head slowly. “You’re as beautiful as you ever were. As poetically tortured as you ever were.”

He made a face, half-smile, half twisted pain.

“You were my first love,” I admitted quietly. “I never got over you. I thought of you often. Wondered what you were doing, if you’d moved on.”

He shook his head again. “I couldn’t.”

“Me either.”

His gaze fixed on mine. “Paul?”

“I’m not saying yes. I’m not saying I know what any of this means, because I don’t. But I’m so fucking glad you’re here. It’s stirred up a lot of memories and emotions and I’m not sure what to make of it.” And that was the honest truth. “But it’s not a no. I don’t know what it is. But I’m interested in finding out.”

He looked at me, eyes wide, disbelieving, and full of tears. “Do you mean that?”