Page 220 of Firsts Are Always Messy

And it's going to be amazing.

Epilogue

Kyle

Two years later...

She's sitting in the window of a small café, not far from the Gallery. Her hair is no longer a golden shade of blond, but dark. Chestnut brown. It's cut to her shoulders, curled, framing her delicate face. My heart fucking aches as I stare at her from across the street.

She's never looked more beautiful.

I watch, a bouquet of white roses in hand, as she types on a laptop, probably finishing a paper for class. She's wearing glasses now, but she pushes them up onto her head when she gets a phone call, brings the cell phone to her ear, smiles as her hand flips through the air. She always talks with her hands.

She laughs and my chest feels like it might explode from the pain. I miss the sound of her laughter. The sound of her voice first thing in the morning. Her quiet snores in the middle of the night. The way she called me baby. How she looked at me before I broke her heart.

Before I left her.

Before I destroyed her while I was trying to put back the broken shards of my life, piece by piece.

Empty and alone.

I...I just couldn't do that to her. Force her to take care of me while I was grieving, angry, bitter. She deserved so much better. From me. From my family.

I had nothing to offer her. My heart felt like stone in my chest, and I couldn't breathe. I was terrified if I stayed, she'd end up hating me. Or herself.

She hates me anyway.

She doesn't resemble the girl I fell in love with thirteen years ago. She's a woman now. Almost finished with college. Working for a consulting firm, I think. She has her life together.

Finally.

And so do I.

She sets the phone down, runs a tired hand over her face. I take a step into the street, the glare of oncoming headlights flashing in front of me.

I'm going to face her for the first time since I left her.

God, why did I leave her? That nearly killed me. I didn't stay to say goodbye because I knew. I knew if I did, I would never leave her. So, I left like a coward.

I can't imagine the pain she was in when she realized I was gone, but I'm sure it felt like I had sliced her heart wide open, the same way mine did.

I almost stayed. I wanted to. But I knew I couldn't. For her.

Seven more steps and I'll be across the street.

My heart feels lighter than it has in years. I want to see her eyes. The way they always light up when I enter a room. The deep blue color, like ocean waves on a sunny day.

I'm standing on the sidewalk, her side profile right in front of me on the other side of the glass. If she turns, even just a fraction of an inch, she'll see me.

I've waited too long for this. I readjust the flowers in my hand, run my hand through my hair.

I'm going to do this.

But I stop in my tracks when a man walks up to her. He's tall. Nerdy looking. Blond hair, big goofy smile on his face with a cup in his hand. Probably hot chocolate. Except there's no extra whip like she likes.

He sets it on the table in front of her. She stands, slips a short strand of brown behind her ear, says a few words before wrapping her arms around him. I watch as my heart clenches beneath my ribs, feels like a fucking fist is smashing it.

She kisses him.

He sits down across from her, his face as high as a fucking addict. She takes a sip of her drink, her hand reaching for his.

I think I've lost her.

Forever.