Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Another minute passes.
“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what she wants from me. We were never close. I was always my father’s son… which is why… fuck.”
Years ago, I held him like this as he mourned his father’s death. And tonight I do this same. Grief comes and goes. It’s not something that’s a singular notion. It’s constant.
“You should talk to her,” I barely speak the words. “You know I didn’t get along with my mom. But I wish I’d told her I loved her before she died.” My throat feels hot and my mouth dry as regret comes for me once again. “She wasn’t perfect, and she hurt me with some of the things she did… but I did love her, and I regret not making sure she knew it before she died.”
Madox holds me closer, tighter to him and plants a small kiss on my cheek. His touch is soothing.
“It’s not my place to interfere, but she loves you and I know she has regrets. You could see a therapist, maybe,” I offer, hoping he’ll see someone or try to talk to her. I don’t want him to live with any more regret than he already has.
I never knew how badly he hurt, and I don’t want that for him. He doesn’t deserve this pain.
“Can I just talk to you?” As I part my lips he adds, “And I’ll listen to my mother, or I’ll try to at least.”
“I think that sounds like a really good plan. If you do it.”
“I will.”
I give him a quick kiss while holding his hands as tight as I can. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Another moment passes where it’s quiet. My eyes feel heavier, my heart a tiny bit lighter, and my entire body feels warm next to him. He feels like home.
“I can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“Talking?” I ask.
“Just being with you. It feels better when I’m with you.”
I smile against his chest, but it’s a mix of longing, of sadness, and of something else. Regret that we could have had this for the past three years instead of all the pain. “Yeah,” I say and my voice cracks. “I know. Me too.” I sniffle and refuse to cry any more before telling him, “Promise you won’t stop talking to me, Madox. Even if I get upset. I just need to know you love me.”
“I’ve always loved you. I never want to say the wrong thing.”
“Madox, every word that comes from these lips is kind. You’re so careful with me.”
“Maybe that’s why we work?” he asks jokingly, lightening the mood and I have to laugh. It’s a crazy sound that erupts from my lips. As if this is what a good relationship is.
“Is that what you think? We work?” I ask him and then push myself even closer to him. Any closer and I’d be on top of him.
“Given everything we’ve been through, and that we still love each other, I call that working.”
“That’s a good point,” I breathe out.
“You know I love you, right?” he asks me. I nod weakly but tell him, “I do. I know you love me.”
“And is it enough?” he asks before I can tell him I love him too.
“Enough?” I question him and he tries to explain but I cut him off to say, “Madox, you are more than enough, and your love is more than enough. You are everything to me.”
“So you’ll stay?” he asks me and then tells me, “I want you to stay with me.”
“You’re crazy to think I’ll ever leave you again.”
“Good. If you try to run, I’m reminding you of this.”
He’s crazy to think I’d ever forget any of this either.
When you’re young, it’s easy to say it’s only puppy love.
It’s easy to tell yourself sweet little lies to make it all better. Or even truths, like there are so many other men out there, this one was only a phase.
But deep down I always knew I loved him in a way where nothing else could compare, and he was the only man I’d ever love. We could both feel it. We just didn’t know how to show it and how to feel like we were worth being loved by each other.
It’s easy to be scared by that realization, regardless of when it comes to you.
This time, I know better. That intense feeling that brings out every side of me and doesn’t hide a smidgen of who I am from Madox. It’s love. Pure and raw and deep. Leaving me battered and bruised.
“I love you so damn much, Madox Reed.”
EPILOGUE
Sophie
One year later
“It smells so good,” I practically moan as I squeeze a lime over the diced tomatoes and red onion. With a touch of cilantro, the pico de gallo is almost done.