Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(82)

However, I also know that opening the door won’t do either of us any good. He just broke up with Maggie a matter of weeks ago, so if he’s here for me, he can turn right around and leave. There’s no way anything could work between us when I know he’s still heartbroken over someone else. I deserve more than what he can give me right now. I’ve been through too much this year to let someone screw with my heart like this.

He shouldn’t be here.

Ridge: Can I come in?

I turn until my back is pressed against the door. I clutch the phone to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to read his words. I don’t want to see his face. Everything about him makes me lose sight of what’s important, what’s best for me. He isn’t what’s best for my life right now, especially considering what he’s gone through in his own life, and I should walk away from this door and not let him in.

But everything in me wants to let him in.

“Please, Sydney.”

The words are almost an inaudible whisper through the other side of the door, but I definitely heard them. Every single part of me heard them. The desperation in his voice, combined with the simple fact that he spoke, completely slays me. I allow my heart to make my decision for me this time as I slowly face the door. I turn the lock and slide the latch loose, then open the door.

I can’t describe what it feels like to see him standing in front of me again without using the term terrifying.

Everything about the way he makes me feel is absolutely terrifying. The way my heart wants to be held by him is terrifying. The way my knees seem to forget how to hold me up is terrifying. The way my mouth wants to be claimed by his is terrifying.

I do my best to hide what his presence does to me by turning away from him and walking toward the living room.

I don’t know why I’m trying to hide my reaction from him, but isn’t that what people do? We try so hard to hide everything we’re really feeling from those who probably need to know our true feelings the most. People try to bottle up their emotions, as if it’s somehow wrong to have natural reactions to life.

My natural reaction in this moment is to turn and hug him, regardless of the reason he’s here. My arms want to be around him, my face wants to be pressed against his chest, my back wants to be cradled by him—yet I’m standing here trying to pretend that’s the last thing I need from him.

Why?

I inhale a calming breath, then turn around when I hear him close the front door behind him. I lift my eyes to meet his, and he’s standing several feet in front of me, watching me. I can tell by the tightness in his expression that he’s doing exactly what I’m doing. He’s holding back everything he’s feeling for the sake of . . . what?

Pride?

Fear?

The one thing I’ve always admired about my relationship with Ridge is that we’re so honest and real with each other. I’ve always been able to say exactly what I was thinking, and so has he. I don’t like this shift we’ve made.

I try to smile at him, but I’m not sure if my smile is working right now. I speak to him and enunciate clearly so he can read my lips. “Are you here because you need a flaw?”

He laughs and exhales at the same time, relieved that I’m not angry.

I’m not angry. I’ve never been mad at him. The decisions he’s made during the time he’s known me aren’t decisions I can hold against him. The only thing I hold against him is the night he kissed me and ruined me for every other kiss I’ll ever experience.

I take a seat on the couch and look up at him. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He sighs, and I quickly look away. It’s hard enough being in the same room as him right now, but even harder to make eye contact with him. He completes the walk into the living room and sits on the couch next to me.

I debated buying more furniture, but one couch was all I could afford. A love seat at that. I’m not so sure I’m sad about my lack of furniture, though, because his leg is touching my thigh, and the simple contact causes heat to roll through me like a riptide. I look down at our knees when they brush together and realize I’m still wearing the T-shirt I threw on right before I went to bed. I guess I was so shocked by the fact that he said he was at my apartment door that I didn’t concern myself with how I looked. I’m in nothing but an oversized cotton T-shirt that falls to my knees, and my hair is more than likely a wreck.

He’s in jeans and a gray Sounds of Cedar T-shirt. I would say I feel underdressed, but I’m actually dressed appropriately for what I was doing before he showed up, which was going to bed.

Ridge: I don’t know if I’m okay. Are you okay?

I forgot I even asked him a question for a second.

I shrug. I’m sure I will be fine, but I’m not going to lie and tell him I am. I think it’s obvious that neither one of us can really be okay with how everything has turned out. I’m not okay with losing Ridge, and Ridge isn’t okay with losing Maggie.

Me: I’m sorry about Maggie. I feel awful. She’ll come around, though. Five years is a lot to give up for a misunderstanding.

I hit send and finally look up at him. He reads the text, then eyes me. The concentration in his expression makes the breath catch in my lungs.

Ridge: It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Sydney. She understood a little too well.

I read his text several times, wishing he would expand on it. What wasn’t a misunderstanding? The reason they broke up? His feelings for me? Rather than ask him what he means, I cut to the question I want the answer to the most.