One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(76)

“But it’s obvious I have barely survived without you.”

My stomach flipped and rolled and I leaned in, letting my lips touch his. Unable to resist the connection between us that had always been there.

“Imi,” he whispered against my mouth, before pulling me against him with a force that left me breathless.

Then he was kissing me.

With passion. With anger. With regret.

With something that felt a lot like love.

His fingers tangled in my hair. My hands slid up his shirt. I pressed my palms against fevered skin, hating, yet loving the texture of his familiar scars, rough and rigid.

I could feel his ribs. Each one prominent. Too prominent.

But I was holding Yossarian Frazier.

The love of my young life.

Possibly the love of my whole life.

He pulled away and framed my face with his hands. Our noses brushed against each other. Breath mingling. Souls clashing.

“Imi,” he said my name again. Softer. Quieter. He sucked in air, as if he were drowning. He closed his eyes, bracing himself.

“I—”

He never finished his thought.

The doorbell rang.

It echoed through the house, startling us both. I let out a noisy sigh and Yoss opened his eyes, running his thumb along the curve of my lips. “I think you’d better get that,” he said as the bell chimed again.

Whoever it was, clearly wasn’t very patient. I ran a hand through my hair.

“Okay. I’ll just be a minute. It’s probably an encyclopedia salesman or something.”

Yoss raised an eyebrow. “Is that even still a thing?”

The doorbell chimed again and I bared my teeth. “They better hope they’re selling something good.” Yoss laughed and I hurried from the room.

I pulled open the front door in a huff of frustration, a frown on my face.

And froze.

“Sorry to come by so late,” Chris said, not looking the least bit apologetic.

Chris O’Neil.

My ex-husband.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling the deadened weight of his presence press down on me.

I glanced over my shoulder; relieved Yoss had remained in the spare bedroom.

Chris walked past me and into the house, clearly still feeling as if he belonged there. How wrong he was.

“I tried calling you a few times but you didn’t answer,” Chris said by way of explanation for his unwanted presence.

I didn’t feel particularly antagonistic towards my former husband. Even with his pushiness and demanding personality, I could only ever feel guilt.

Because the situation we found ourselves in was mostly my fault.

I should never have married him in to begin with.

Chris had been a placeholder in my life.

So I couldn’t summon the will to be angry with him for barging into the house that up until six months ago had also been his.

“Sorry, I must have it on silent,” I explained, closing the door behind him, praying I could get him out of the house before he figured out I wasn’t alone.

“What’s the point of having a phone if you never answer it?” he chastised. An age-old criticism. One of many.

Okay, so maybe I did feel more than guilt about Chris.

Right then I was feeling a whole lot of relief that I was no longer tied to him in any way.

Because he was definitely a dick.

“I’ll make sure to put that on my screw up list,” I deadpanned.

Chris frowned, shoving his hands into his wool pea coat. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he remarked.

Of course he didn’t.

That was just Chris. He was callous and unfiltered.

Just as I had always been placid and unemotional.

We were a really horrible pair.

“It’s late, Chris. Why are you here?” I asked again, showing my growing impatience.

“I was worried when you didn’t answer the phone,” Chris went on.

“What did you think would have happened to me between here and the hospital? Alien abduction? Human trafficking? Don’t be ridiculous, Chris,” I chided in frustration.

“Given the unsavories you work with on a daily basis—”

“Why. Are. You. Here?” I demanded, cutting him off.

My ex-husband appeared surprised by my obvious anger. I supposed seeing any sort of emotion from me was shocking considering he hadn’t witnessed much of it in the time he had known me.

I looked at Chris long and hard, trying to remember why I had been drawn to him.

Because he’s nothing like Yoss.

The truth was obvious now that I could face it. Yoss, whether he was around or not, had dictated so much in my life.

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Physically Chris and Yoss were nothing alike. Yoss had dark hair; Chris had ginger locks that he insisted on dying brown. He hated being a redhead and I only realized his natural hair color a month after we had been married and found the box of hair dye in the trashcan.

Yoss was tall and lean. Chris spent too much time at the gym trying to overcompensate for his short stature. He and I could look each other in the eye when I wore heels.

Yoss was beautiful. His face was perfect.

Chris was all right.

Yoss set me on fire.

Chris and I were only ever lukewarm.