The Trade(77)

Just like that, a new wave of tears fall down my cheeks. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Dottie says in the background just as a door opens down the hallway.

My stomach drops and I turn to see Cory locking up, then he finds me, sitting on the floor of his apartment hallway, my giant bag next to me, tears streaming.

Without a second thought, he comes charging toward me.

“Hey, I have to go,” I say quickly into the phone. Just as I hang up, Cory is squatting down to my level, hand on my shoulder.

His eyes search mine frantically as he lifts his hand and wipes away my tears. “What’s going on?” He surveys my body and then brings his eyes back up to mine. “Are you okay?”

I try to smile, but it feels more like a flat line than anything as another tear falls down my cheek. “I’m fine.” I take a deep breath and look toward the ceiling. “I hate being emotional. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He stands and helps me to my feet. All traces of anger gone as he fawns over me, making sure I’m okay.

It all comes crashing down. We just had one of the most intense conversations of my life, open and honest, Cory poured his heart out to me and instead of saying anything, settling the twist that’s probably turning in his stomach, I left.

If it was Ansel, or probably any other person, if they saw me crying in the hallway, they wouldn’t ask if I was okay, help me to stand, show deep concern . . . only Cory.

And that’s when everything Jason said clicks. I would regret it if I didn’t give Cory a chance, if I don’t put my past aside, the fear of another failed relationship, and try to move forward. And Cory’s words float through my heart, strengthening my resolve. “You’re beautiful, Natalie. Don’t let your ex dictate what you feel about yourself any longer. He’s blind and extremely stupid. Because you? You’re extraordinary.” Two men I trust. Two men who believe in me.

Mustering up all the courage I have, I turn toward him and reach out to take his hand in mine. He doesn’t shy away, but he doesn’t squeeze back. He lends out his hand for my comfort and I soak it all in.

“I’m sorry—”

“I told you, you don’t have to apologize, Natalie.”

“I do,” I say quickly before I lose my courage. “I should have said something in your apartment. I shouldn’t have left like that. I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle it all.” He starts to talk, but I press my fingers to his lips. “Please, let me explain.” He nods and continues to gaze into my eyes. His attention gives me joy, another thing I’m now aware Ansel never gave me. He always had one eye on the TV. Or his phone. Or the computer. Always. “I’m scared because what I feel for you is new and strong and feels like it could easily consume me.”

“I know what you mean.” This time he squeezes my hand.

“And I thought that maybe I needed to slow down, figure out myself first, because I don’t want you to be my rebound either, Cory. I want you to be so much more, but I realized, the more I wait, the more I try to figure things out, the more and more I will yearn for you, for your touch, for your warmth. I got a taste of it in St. Croix and I already know I need more. This is terrifying to me, jumping into another relationship right after a failed marriage because there’s risk of failure again. But I honestly don’t think I could get on that elevator and walk away. Not without knowing I’m exclusively yours.”

His eyes soften and his chest deflates in relief as he pulls me into a hug and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice in disbelief. “I want you to want this, not because I put it out there. I know this isn’t exactly what you were looking for.”

“I wasn’t,” I admit. “I wasn’t necessarily looking for a connection this strong, but here it is and there is nothing I can do about it other than live in the moment and accept the fact that you’re what I want, right now. Who I want.”

He puts distance between us so he can look me in the eyes. There’s a pinch to his brow as he asks, “I want to date, Natalie. This isn’t casual for me.”

“This isn’t casual for me either,” I quickly say. “Nothing about the feelings I have for you is casual. It would be so much easier if they were, but they came in fast and strong and even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could shake them.”

He rests his forehead against mine and says, “Same. I tried.” He chuckles. “Fuck, did I try, especially when I thought you were still married. But you stuck with me.” He lifts my chin and says, “Didn’t help that you were waltzing around our hotel room in a nightgown, braless, or those other matching pajamas for that matter.”

“Most of the time, it was out of comfort, other times it was to get your attention.”

“It worked.” He chuckles. “The amount of times I jacked off in the shower should be a sin. You were driving me crazy.”

He strokes his hand over my hair, his eyes trained on mine the whole time. “What about you walking around with your shirt off all the time, did you think that was easy for me?”

“Yes.”

I poke his side and he grips me tightly, right before lowering his mouth to my lips and pressing his lips against mine. “So . . . are we really doing this?”