Page 64 of The Best I Never Had

There’s a flash of a smile across her face—crinkled eyes and tilted lips—but it’s gone too quickly.

“It was about our mom. I won’t bore you with the details.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I want to be bored with the details, until I see the tightness around her eyes and realize she can’t handle them yet. “And I just lost it.”

“Why?” She tenses in my arms, and I rush to add, “Not saying you shouldn’t have. I just want to understand.”

She blinks at me, like the idea of someone wanting to get her is foreign. “You do?”

A breath gusts out of me. “Yes. God, Thea, I want to understand everything about you.”

She looks physically pained at my words, but she leans forward, placing the softest kiss on my lips before pulling back. “Long story short, she wants to focus on her new family instead of the family who has never been there for her. So, you know, me.”

Fire shoots through my veins. Anyone who interacts with the sisters can see how vehemently Thea loves Addy, how much she’d sacrifice for her sister’s happiness. Before now, I’d have said it’s two-sided. The only true emotion I’ve seen from Addy is when she talks to Thea or Harrison, flashes of something real underneath her facade.

“I’m sorry, Thea,” I murmur. “You deserve a lot more raging than a couple snippy comments to me.”

Thea snort-laughs into my neck, and I feel so accomplished.

“But I don’t believe she meant it. It was a shitty thing for her to say, and you deserve an apology, but she loves you.” She shakes her head, and I pull her face back to meet her eyes. “How could she know you as well as she does and not love you?”

It’s too close to a confession, and I’m worried she’s going to bolt. Instead, her eyes are soft, filled with gratitude and longing as a tear slides down one cheek. I kiss it away, then pull her back into my arms.

We sit, wrapped up in each other, for a few more minutes before Thea whispers, “We need to get dressed.”

“I know,” I say, shifting her closer in my arms. My legs have gone numb underneath me, but I’ll keep her here as long as she’ll let me.

“This has to stay in here,” she says. “No room for improvisation in that part of the script.”

I suck in a breath, my chest expanding with the motion and pushing us more tightly together. “But what if there was?”

She leans back, her strong brows pulling together. “What do you mean?”

“Did this feel like a one-time thing to you? Because it didn’t for me. All of it—every time we talk and touch—feels like so much more, and I don’t want to walk away.”

Thea takes her plump bottom lip between her teeth, and I can see the wheels in her brain moving. She doesn’t know how to make it work, but she wants to. It’s clear in the way her arms tighten around my shoulders.

I push forward before she can spiral and talk herself out of it. “We can take the rest of the week to get to know each other, to make sure this is what we want. No mess or fuss before the wedding. Then, once it’s done, we come clean to my mom. Tell her everything while Harrison and Addy are on their honeymoon and do whatever we need to do to placate my mom before they get home. Assuming you still want to when the week’s up.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “And assuming you still want to.”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, I’ll still want to.”

Thea watches me closely, running her fingertips along the ridge of my nose and over my cheekbone. “Are you sure? I’m … I’m not easy.”

“Easy’s overrated,” I say, pairing it with a shrug that has Thea’s lips twisting up for a second before they fall again.

“It could make things hard with your mom,” she says, looking over my shoulder, like she can’t bear to watch my face.

“You’re worth making waves for.”

Thea doesn’t respond for what feels like eons, and my heart sinks. Maybe I misread the situation. Maybe I’m just a distraction.

“Addy may never forgive me.” The words are quiet.

It’s hard to resist the urge to rub at the ache in my chest. This woman—the one who has called herself “selfish” and “difficult” multiple times—has brought up how everyone except her would feel. I can’t help but wonder how this lie about who she is became so ingrained in her identity, especially when she’s shown nothing but selflessness to me. I want to help her see the truth. The beauty and light she brings into the world.

“You deserve happiness, too, Thea.” I search her face, giving those words a moment to sink in. “Do you want this?”

I keep the question gentle, giving her the space to say no, to retreat from the feelings I can see shining out of her eyes.