Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I sit stunned for a moment.
Relief sweeps through me in a rush.
Deb shoots up at my side with a fist-pumping shout. “Yes!”
“No!” Marissa slams her hands down on the table.
“Eee!” Yvette and Clara tumble toward each other with loud squeals.
Marissa stares at them like she can’t decide if she wants to laugh or scream.
Clara and Yvette collide—and then they’re kissing—deeply, passionately, frantically.
My eyes widen and I clear my throat, looking away politely.
“Not fair,” I mutter. “How the hell does she get to kiss her girl before I do?”
“Because she wasn’t a dick to her girl,” Deb mutters back with a smirk. “By the way, your girl is right behind you, doofus. I think you have some things to say to her.”
Shit.
I finally let myself look back at Elle.
If I’d done it during the case, I’d have lost my shit in a heartbeat, gone to her, begged for her forgiveness.
For her love.
But Elle’s not looking at me now.
She’s watching Clara and Yvette, her eyes streaming with happy tears. Her hands are clasped over her mouth, but it’s not hard to tell she’s smiling, laughing, crying all at once.
Yvette breaks away from Clara, smiling so wide, leaning into her to nuzzle their noses together tenderly before she pulls back enough to look at her daughter.
“Marissa,” Yvette says softly. “I’m sorry I never told you the truth, but I’m still your mother. I never stopped loving you. I want to be here for you, no matter what you’re going through. Please . . . please, can we start over?”
Start over.
That’s what I want so badly.
To start again with Elle, this time being together for real.
Which means I have to man the fuck up and be honest about how I feel.
“Elle,” I say softly.
Her breath sucks in.
For a moment, she doesn’t look at me, her shoulders tensing.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes. “Clara asked me to come. I know I shouldn’t be here, but—”
“No—no, I’m glad you came, to be there for her, especially when I was preoccupied.”
“I see that.” She blinks. Despite the tension, she laughs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you figured all this out. You found her, August. You brought them back together. It’s amazing!”
“It is,” I agree, when all I want to say is, I want that. I want that with you. I fucking want what they have, and I’m not afraid to admit it. “I hope they’re happy now. Hope they can make up for lost time.”
She’s watching me intently.
Why is this so difficult?
Deep breath.
“Elle, I can’t lose more time making things right with you,” I grind out, my heart tumbling out in the open.
She falters, her smile fading as she looks at me with wide, confused eyes.
“What?”
“Elle, I—goddammit, woman. You know I’m bad at this.” Muttering to myself, I lift up enough to fish around in my pockets and pull out a folded piece of paper. “Just read it.”
Puzzled, Elle reaches out carefully to take the folded page.
“I feel like I’m back in sixth grade,” she murmurs, unfolding the paper.
Now I have to look away.
I can’t stand to look while she reads my clumsy words.
Miss Eleanor Lark—
I wanted to start this with “My everything.” Because on paper I get to cheese it up, and you are my all, Elle Lark.
I should have told you that the second I realized it.
I should have told you every damned day.
I should have shut my yap instead of screaming and been honest—as bright and honest as you’ve always been with me.
When I was a little boy, I loved Inky because he was different. The kind of different that makes children feel less alone.
The same way Inky found acceptance because he was unique, you made me feel accepted. Like I can be myself—rude, blunt, and strange as ever.
You let me be me without complaints, without trying to change me.
You still care for me just as I am.
But I didn’t make you feel the same, did I?
I called you crazy, chaotic and disruptive. I treated you like an intrusion on my life, when you were anything but.
You were—you are—what I never knew I needed to make my life complete.
Screw chaos.
You bring joy.
You light up everything you touch.
I’m so accustomed to remaining untouched that I mistook change for destruction and love for intrusions. Your joy is not destructive. Your care is not invasive.
It makes me whole and it’s part of what makes you so beautiful.
If you’re insane, then I’m fucking pathological.
I’m insane for everything about you.
All the things you think I couldn’t possibly like about you—your brightness, your impulsiveness, your whims, your goofy pet names.
I’d rather wake up to “Gruffykins” a thousand mornings than breathe another minute without you.
I love them all.
Just like I love you.
I think I’ve loved you since the day you fell into my arms in an airport terminal. I’ve just had to wrestle myself to face the truth, and in the process, I wound up fighting you.