Because You're Different ✔

84. Selfish [Part 2]

My head was spinning, making it difficult to draw in air. I grabbed my legs, in a nonsensical attempt to steady myself, squeezing the fabric of my sweatpants tight. "What... what are you doing here?"

"What I should've done two years ago." He said it without any trace of hesitation, like he'd practiced the answer out loud before. His hand moved to his hair, wanting to run through it, though he stopped himself at the last moment. A quick look at Luis, as if he was asking what to do next, and he cleared his throat. "I'm not going to be a coward again. I just... I don't want to lose you again. Not without trying."

No, no... How? This morning, I'd seen him, I'd seen the box, seen gorgeous Charlotte... I didn't get it, didn't get any of it. "But the ring," I said, my lips trembling, "the ring. You were looking at it, and then that guy said—"

He shook his head repeatedly, pressing a fist to his mouth. A sharp intake of breath, and he went to his knees, sitting before me on the cold floor, ocean blue radiating something white-hot. "You really believed that?" he asked, the words small and cracked. "You really believed I would tell you I love you and then just ask someone else to marry me?" When I didn't respond, he shook his head again, moving a little closer, almost, almost touching me. "Junie, that ring was never meant for Charlotte. I told you, I haven't even seen her in two years. I don't want to be with her. She doesn't want to be with me. In fact, she's engaged. And not to me."

"She's... she's engaged?" It was foolish, so, so foolish, but hearing him say that, say that she had moved on, that she hadn't set her sights on him, cleared up one of the knots in my stomach, and straight away, everything was lighter.

He nodded earnestly. "Yes. She met this man in Australia, and she's planning on immigrating. And that guy..." His jaw tightened, eyes darkening for a second. "Do you remember I told you about Edward, her asshole cousin? Well, that was him. He likes causing chaos. It's what he does best. He probably wasn't all that keen on the idea of Charlotte living in Australia and thought her parents would put a stop to it if they knew."

His explanation left me stunned, frozen on the bed in that tiny room. How on earth could I've come to that conclusion so fast, convinced that he'd let me down, convinced that he'd lied? If I'd just stayed long enough for him to see me, he could've said all of this, spared me all this pain — he wouldn't have had to get on a plane and follow me all the way to New York.

O god.

He got on a plane and followed me all the way to New York.

He did that.

All the hundreds of shards, even the ones that were nothing more than grains of sand, came together again, finding their former places, together filling up the gaping hole in my chest. I gasped, forgetting how to breathe, how to think, how to move.

Then there was a hand on mine, sending sparks of fire jumping over my skin, even though he barely touched me, even though he was barely there. I looked down, into his eyes, asking me so much without any words, telling me so much, and it was so fantastical, and yet so palpable. "It's you, Junie," he whispered out of the blue, and oh, my heart could still beat, even after all it'd been through. "You're not my anything. You're my real thing."

Yes, beat it could, strong and fast and loud, saving the memory of him saying that for later. For later, when I'd be able to understand all this, to process it.

Now he did run his hands through his hair, glancing away for a moment. "And the ring... it was supposed to be proof." He took his jacket, feeling for something and pulling out the red box. The jacket fell to the floor, useless, and he held the box out so I could see it clearly. "Please," he said, "please let me prove it."