Page 68 of I Love My Mistake

Chapter Twenty-Nine

An Hour Later

Coffees in hand, we opt for the stairs up to my place as we chat easily about our lives, our footsteps echoing off the walls. I grab the handrail and look back. “No, I always thought I’d live in New York. I spent a lot of time in Los Angeles with my dad, and the weather’s a huge improvement… but this city is more me. Plus I’ve got my sisters here.”

“Your girlfriends?”

I nod. “They’re my family. Especially with my momma gone. And my mema passed before her, when I was only fourteen. Heart attack.” Off his expression, I say, “I know. Broke our hearts. Not my dad’s though. Mema had no patience for him and had no problem telling him so, every time she saw him.” I shake my head and laugh at the memory. “She was a strong lady. Anyway, he’s my only family now. But we barely talk. So my girlfriends are my family. My chosen one.”

“I can see why you’d stay here. New York is more alive than LA. From what I’ve observed this trip, you can feel it – the electricity.”

Pangs of jealousy at the reminder of his last visit throb instantly through my veins. Now, why’d he have to go and say it like that? Irked, I take a beat. “Right. You didn’t get out much your last trip, huh?”

He hesitates. “I was only here a day…”

Damn. Is it obvious I was fishing?

“Only a day?” I pull keys out of my pocket, looking back to see his face. There’s a weird light in my eyes, though I’m unaware of it.

He’s towering over me, hands in his pants pockets, his jacket pushed up to make room. He chews his lips, weighing his words carefully. “Well… I ended up staying an extra day.” A verbal knife rips through me as he adds, “But I didn’t go out much.”

Instantly I regret asking. My stomach is using my heart as a punching bag. But that doesn’t stop me from digging deeper. A voice way inside my soul tells me to shut up, but I can’t. I just can’t. “No? So, you were too tied up with that girl then. That must have been nice.” I slide the key in the lock.

His eyes darken. “Nicole.”

I throw a casual glance over my shoulder. “Hmm?” I drop my keys back in my jacket pocket before I pull it off and throw it onto the floor. It hits the ground a little too hard.

“I see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

He closes the door, his eyelashes lowered as he thinks of what to say. I stand still, heartbeat thudding in my chest, stomach wailing on it. His head comes up slowly. He walks to me. When he gets a foot away, he slowly says, “My eyes. Looking at you. See?”

I nod, silent.

“Good. You want the truth of what happened?”

I hesitate, and slowly bring my head up and down, just once. My heart twists and I hold my breath. Why am I asking? How can this help anything? But I need to know the answer. I have to know, so I can protect myself, so I’m safe. I didn’t know Michael was married, and look where that got me: months of begging him to have sex with me and not understanding why he wouldn’t, feeling rejected and unloved and unworthy. This might hurt – but…

“I have to know,” I whisper.

His jaw sets and his eyes hold mine prisoner. He wants me to see that he’s telling me the truth. He takes a deep breath. “I extended my trip another night because I wanted to see if anything was possible with her, yes. But she shot me down early on. I was pretty hung up about it, couldn’t understand it and thought she was just scared. But I think it’s more than that. I think I know why, now.”

Staring up at him, I ask plainly – no walls, no bullshit, “Why?”

He brings his hands up to cup my face. His eyes sadden, hoping I’ll believe him. They’re so earnest and heartfelt that I can’t look away. I’ve stopped breathing.

“Because if she hadn’t rejected me, I’d be here in New York with her right now. I wouldn’t have met you! And while I did feel something for her, it pales in comparison with what this feels like.” He motions back and forth between our chests, our hearts. He walks away and paces like he’s trying to get the strength to continue, wondering if he should. There’s something greater than this that’s been on his mind. I can see it from the troubled look, the way he’s biting his lips again. “Here’s the thing, Nicole. I have been looking for something like this for a long time.”

“You just met me yesterday,” I breathe, entranced by the trustworthy gleam in his eyes that says believe me.

“So?” His eyes travel to my parted lips, then back up. He looks pained as a terrifying thought occurs to him. “Don’t you feel it? Am I alone in this?”

I walk, reach out and lay my hands on his chest. His heart vibrates against my hands, beating fast. “You’re not alone. And it’s more than a little terrifying to me.”

A relieved smile washes over him. “I didn’t think it was scary until just now. It’s crazy, I know. But being with you, the way you look at me, the way you feel in my arms. These eyes of yours, Nicole. They kill me. I look into them and I think of…”

“Possibilities,” I finish in little more than a whisper. I nod and add, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”