Page 76 of Waiting for You

I stood, threw a twenty onto the table for the coffee, and left him sitting there.

The second my boots hit the sidewalk, I pulled out my phone and dialed Violet.

"I need to talk to her," I announced the second she answered. "I need to see Sloane right now. If I call her cell, she won't pick up. And she has every right not to."

"Xavier," Violet ordered. "Slow down and breathe."

"I don't want to slow down," I argued, pacing the pavement. "I've been a fool for days. I've been playing it careful and measured. I was wrong. She was right, and I need to look her in the eye and tell her that."

Violet went quiet on the other end.

"Come to my apartment," she finally said.

When Violet opened her front door twenty minutes later, I blew past her into the living room.

"Why did I need to come here first?" I demanded, spinning around.

"You'll see," she answered, closing the door. "Sit down on the couch. Tell me what you're planning to say to her first."

I dropped onto the sofa.

"I've been stupid," I confessed, dropping my head into my hands. "I stared her in the face and told her I didn't believe her. I couldn't let myself believe it. It was easier to keep believing she just didn't love me enough to stay. I didn't want to accept there was a real reason, because accepting it meant all those years I spent hating her were years I wasted being angry at the wrong person." I pressed my palms against my eyes.

"She loved me too much. That's what she did. She loved me so much she stood terrified in her father's office, handed me back the ring, and watched me walk away because she believed that was the only way to keep me safe." My hands fell away from my face. "And I took the ring, I walked away, and I spent eight years deciding her sacrifice meant she didn't love me at all."

"I should have fought for it," I continued, my voice breaking. "I should have tracked her down, demanded to know what happened, and sworn to her she wasn't alone. I didn't do a single one of those things. I let her go and built a comfortable story to protect my own ego. I was a fool." I looked up at Violet. "It's not too late. Please tell me it isn't too late."

"No," Violet answered.

"Then give me her address right now," I demanded, standing. "I need to go to her apartment. I want to tell her I finally understand, and that we can love each other in different ways, and I swear to god I'll learn to understand her way. I will. I want to spend my life learning it."

Violet just watched me.

Right before she could open her mouth to answer, three sharp knocks echoed from the front door.

Violet stood, crossed the foyer, and pulled the heavy door open.

Sloane was standing right there in the hallway.

We both went still.

NINETEEN

SLOANE

Sleep wouldn't come.

Work wasn't much better. I still showed up to the studio every day because going through the motions was the only routine I had left. I opened the shop, flipped on the lights, brewed coffee, and sat with my pending commission sketches. Mostly I stared at them. The lines were solid. The ideas tracked. My hands just refused to cooperate.

My own sketches stalled, but the booked work didn't care how I felt. My two o'clock was back for the second half of his sleeve.

He'd been quiet the first time, three weeks earlier, his jaw set and his eyes on the wall while he braced for a pain he was too proud to name. Today he came in looser, carrying a coffee for each of us, and he asked about my weekend before I'd even snapped on my gloves.

I set up, wiped him down, and got the machine humming. For a while we kept it easy, talking about the weather and the playoffs and the guy who'd come in last month wanting his ex's name buried under a tiger.

An hour into the shading, I asked what the new piece was for. Most people had an answer ready, and the ones worth tattooing always did.

"My niece," he said. "She's got a date on the inside of her wrist already. This fills out the rest of it."