Page 77 of Vance

“Soph, you are not imposing,” he interrupts, his voice dropping, losing the playfulness it had just a moment ago. “You can stay in my bed as long as you want.” He steps closer, closing the distance between us in the narrow kitchen galley until I can smell the wine on his breath.

His warm palm settles against my cheek, cupping my face as his thumb slowly traces along my cheekbone with a tenderness that leaves me momentarily breathless.

“It’s worth it.” His eyes hold mine with an intensity that is reminiscent of the way he used to look at me, a time when I thought that he would be the man I woke up to for the rest of my life.

My throat tightens, and I stare up at him, truly seeing him for the first time since I walked through his door. He is no longer the boy I walked away from, but the man standing before me who is equally as safe, kind, and good. He was always steady and uncomplicated, showing up for me unconditionally. And for one fleeting moment, I understand exactly why I loved him.

“It’s worth it to have you in my life again, Soph. To see you every morning. To take care of you.” His hand presses against my cheek, his fingers spreading gently along my jaw as he holds my face in his large palm, as he lowers his head and whispers, “To be what you need.”

And suddenly, everything seems to slow. I watch him descend toward me as though he’s approaching in slow motion, every inch between us disappearing while my thoughts scramble to catch up. My breath catches in my throat when I realize what is happening.

Connor is going to kiss me.

My heart hammers against my ribcage so hard that it might break through them, with me frozen between the warmth of his hands as he keeps coming.

Closer.

Closer.

His breath blows softly over my lips when he closes the last fraction of space between us, his lips ever so slightly dusting over mine.

“What are you doing?” I whisper against his mouth, the words barely audible, my arms finally working enough to press my hands firmly to his chest.

His hands still cradling my face and thumb brushing over my skin so delicately it sends shivers down my spine, he retreats just enough to meet my eyes. “I never stopped loving you,” he confesses quietly, the words stripped of everything except the truth within them. His eyes search mine, and for the first time, I see just how much he has been holding back.

“I tried,” he continues, his voice roughening. “God, I tried to move on. I built a life without you. I told myself what we had was a foolish first love and that, eventually, I’d stop wondering what might have happened. A few years ago, I thought I’d finally moved on.” His palm dusting lightly across my cheek. “But then you walked through that door three weeks ago, and it was like no time had passed.” He swallows, his dark chocolate eyes never leaving mine. “I looked at you, Soph, and every feeling I thought I’d buried was still there. I’ve loved you all this time. I never really knew how to stop.”

His hand slips from my cheek to the side of my neck, his thumb resting just beneath my jaw as he holds my gaze. There is something almost painfully hopeful in his expression, as though he has spent a decade waiting for this moment. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it, Soph. The way we fit together. The way it was always supposed to be.”

My fingers curl instinctively around his wrists, not pulling him closer, but holding him, needing the contact to steady myself.

“Connor…” I shake my head, the movement small at first before I force myself to tear my gaze from his. “I’m married. And I’m pregnant. You can’t… This…” I shake my head, struggling to find the words to articulate what I need to say. “We can’t, Connor. I can’t.”

“I’ll admit,” he breaks the silence, his expression shifting, something complicated moving across his face, “in all the times I thought about reconnecting, I never imagined it like this.” His hands settle at my waist, holding me for a moment before sliding up to my stomach with a gentleness that causes a lump to form in my throat.

“But I’ll be honest, Soph”—his eyes drop briefly to where his palms are spreading wide across my stomach before returning to mine—“I don’t care.”

I glance at his hands, cradling the life growing inside me, and place my own over his, not pushing them away, allowing myself to mistake the tenderness of his gesture for something it isn’t. “You should,” I whisper.

“I’ve loved you since we were twenty years old, and I never stopped. I’m offering to be a father to your child. To give you the life we should have had. Just say yes, Soph. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved. Both of you.” He stares down at me with unwavering certainty. “I don’t care whose child you’re carrying.”

The offer hangs in the air between us, sweet and tempting. I look at him—this good, kind man; this man who represents everything I should wanted—and I feel nothing but guilt, the aching, persistent memory of Vance’s hands on my skin, and the life growing inside me that ties me to my husband in ways I’m not ready to let go of.

“But I do.” I gently take his wrists, easing his hands away from my stomach. The movement is careful, almost apologetic, as I put not only physical but emotional distance between us. “I care, Connor. I care that this baby is his. I care that I’m still married to him.”

I step backward, separating us further until my back meets the counter. My hands reach behind me, gripping the edge of the countertop as though I need something solid beneath my fingers to keep myself upright. “Vance may not love me the way you would.” I force myself to hold his gaze, swallow hard, my eyes burning as I shake my head. “But he owns me in ways you can’t understand. And… I love him.”

Connor stares at me, his face crumpling with hurt, rejection, and the dawning understanding that I’m not going to choose him. “After everything, you still love him.”

I do…

I still love him.

My eyes drop, unable to withstand the hurt in Connor’s expression. I have tried to convince myself that leaving Vance was what I needed. But I can’t make myself believe it. Not even with a walking green flag of a man standing in front of me, offering me everything I once thought I wanted.

I shake my head, my throat tightening.

“This was a mistake.”