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Ignoring the bag, I turn on my heel to square off with Ryan. His face is tense with concern, but his eyes are tired.

“Ryan, we need to talk.”

These words seem to jolt him awake but do nothing for the tension in his jaw.

He gives a stiff, reluctant nod and follows me out of the waiting room, down the hallway, and out to the car.

We drive back to the hotel in silence, which continues even after the door of our room clicks shut behind us.

Neither of us sits. Ryan shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

I know what I need to say, but the words don’t come easily. I’ve messed things up with Ryan so many times now that I’m not sure how to fix it. Maybe it isn’t fixable, but I need to try. At the very least, I owe him an apology.

Then I feel it again – the threat of tears burning at the corners of my eyes. The heat of my cheeks and chest as I flush with panic. The lump at the base of my throat where all the words are caught.

When the first tear breaks free and tumbles down my cheek, Ryan is already there, wrapping me up in his broad arms. I melt into him, letting the tears fall freely onto his chest. I fall apart at the possibility that I won’t get to do this for the rest of my life.

“Hey,” Ryan whispers, “come here.”

He’s pulling me towards the bed I slept in last night, laying down, and arranging us so that he’s sitting up with me curled against his chest. One hand is at my back and the other brushes hair away from my face.

I cry until there isn’t a drop of moisture left in my entire body. When I’m finally quiet, Ryan asks if I’m okay.

“I messed everything up,” I mutter against his chest.

“What do you mean?” Ryan asks softly after a few seconds pass.

I straighten up against him, leaning away to look at him. Ryan’s hands fall away and I immediately miss their comfort. Choking down a sob, I try to push the words past my lips without falling apart again.

“I assumed that my mom overdosed again.”

Ryan ponders this as his eyes search my face. “It’s a reasonable assumption, given her history. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

“She’s been clean for six years though. When will I finally trust her not to relapse?”

Ryan offers a sympathetic look, but no reply.

“And it made me realize that I always do this. I always assume the worst in everyone. My brain is just programmed to jump to the worst possible conclusion. It’s a defense mechanism, I think, because I’m so used to being disappointed by people.

But it isn’t fair of me to do that. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you. ”

“Marlow…” Ryan says as he shifts, letting the distance grow between us. “It’s okay, I understand why you felt that way. I know how hard it is for you to trust people, and I know that I let you down.”

“You didn’t, though. I did. Even when we were in the middle of breaking up over it, I knew that there was no way that you had been with anyone else.

I just wouldn’t let myself believe it. You’ve never given me any reason to doubt you, but I still couldn’t stop doubting myself.

I keep telling myself that everything will be okay, that I’ll get over it eventually, and I know it’s the one time I should be doubting myself.

Because I don’t think I will ever get over you. ”

A small sob escapes my lips. Ryan’s face is unreadable.

A low rattle starts in his chest and rumbles through his throat but dies on his lips.

It’s all it takes to convince me that I’ll never have another chance with him.

My heart cracks painfully in my chest. I muster up every bit of air that I can manage and give Ryan one final truth – the one I selfishly need him to hear if this is really over: “I love you, Ryan. I just need you to know…”

But my words are cut off as his lips crash against mine.

The fingers that were gently stroking my hair minutes ago are now curling, tugging, pulling.

He pulls me closer with his other hand until I’m pressed up against him.

I settle on his lap, feeling the hard press of him between my legs.

His fingers roam beneath the hem of my shirt, gliding up my ribs and cupping the weight of my breast. He deepens the kiss with a groan that reverberates through my chest.

I want to lap up every little noise he makes. I want to burrow under his skin so there’s no way that I’ll ever be without him again. And judging by the way his fingers are digging into my skin, I think he feels the same.

Suddenly, I’m on my back. Ryan peels off his shirt and my hands reach for the ridges of his firm chest as if I am no longer in control of them.

His hands are on me too, peeling away layers of clothing as they roam across my hot, flushed skin.

His movements are tender yet urgent. When he peels off my panties, his palms graze the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thighs, parting my legs as they travel up, up, up.

He stops short of the place that aches painfully for his touch.

And he smirks.

That damn smirk that I’ll never stop falling for. My heart trips and stutters every time it makes an appearance.

Right now, it tells me that he knows I’m ready for him, even without touching me.

Bracing himself on one arm above me, he lines himself up and pushes inside of me.

Carefully at first, and then with one deep, hard thrust that makes me stumble to the edge of a cliff that I’m not ready to dive off from yet.

I want to savor this, luxuriate in his taste and smell and noises and touch after not having it for so long.

His movements are desperate but cautious, punishing but apologetic, all at once.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp. It’s equal parts the pain of missing him and the pleasure of having him.

Ryan stills above me, buried deep inside of me. His features soften as he cradles my jaw in one hand and presses a soft, chaste kiss to my lips.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says. “You just need to know that there will never be anyone else for me but you.”

And finally, I believe that this is the absolute truth.