Page 39 of His Confession
“Thinking about what?” she asks, softer now.
I hesitate, the words catching somewhere between my chestand my throat. “What it would feel like to want someone again.”
Kayla doesn’t joke this time. She simply watches me.
“It feels wrong,” I continue quietly. “Like I’m betraying what I had by noticing him. By feeling … this.”
She reaches for her glass but doesn’t drink. “Missing your husband doesn’t mean you stop being alive, Mel.”
My chest tightens. “I know. I just—this is the first time since I lost him that it doesn’t feel like a fleeting thought. It feels real. And that scares me.”
She nods slowly. “Of course it does. But this means something has cracked open. And that doesn’t happen unless you’re ready, even if you don’t feel like you are.”
I shake my head. “He’s my boss. He’s complicated. And I don’t even know if he wants?—”
She holds up a hand. “Melissa, I watched that man stare at you like you were oxygen. Trust me, he wants.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” she says smugly, “usually right.”
I take another sip of wine, feeling its warmth spread. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be … that person again.”
Kayla leans forward. “You don’t have to know. You only have to not shut the door before you’ve even tried the handle.”
I glance at her. “That’s very poetic for someone who oncetold me relationships were nothing but well-timed bad decisions.”
She grins. “I contain multitudes. Also, I’m a romance novelist. This is literally my brand.”
I smile, then hesitate. “It feels inappropriate.”
She shrugs. “So is dessert before dinner. People survive.”
“Kayla.”
“I’m just saying,” she adds, lowering her voice, “life is short. Grief doesn’t get to decide you’re done being touched, or wanted, or kissed senseless by a man who clearly hasn’t figured out how to stop wanting you. And trust me, men who look at you like that don’t do gentle by accident. That kind of focus? That’s a man who likes control.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “You’re being inappropriate.”
“I’m being supportive,” she counters. “With flair.”
I laugh, the sound surprising me. Lighter than I’ve felt in a long time.
“I don’t even know if anything will happen,” I say.
She lifts her glass. “It doesn’t have to. But you deserve the chance. And if nothing else, I fully support you having one morally questionable crush that makes you feel alive again.”
I clink my glass against hers.
Maybe wanting someone again doesn’t mean losing what I had. Maybe it means I’m still here. I’m still human, and I have urges, just like everybody else.
Chapter Fourteen
Colton
One morning, I’m turning the corner of the street to the main entrance of the hospital when I spot her familiar blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
My legs work double time to reach the entrance the same time she does.
