Chapter 7: The Confession
She stared at my hand around her wrist, then lifted her gaze to mine with a dark, knowing glint that made my stomach drop. "You're going to have to choose, Grant," she breathed, stepping back just enough to make me feel the cold absence of her body, "and I need to see you pick me of your own free will." "I don't need to choose," I heard myself say, the words scraping raw out of my throat. "I already did. The video wasn't a mistake, Oliva. Not the way you think."
Her hand fell away from mine, but she didn't step back this time. She stood there in that oversized cream sweater, arms loose at her sides, watching me with those huge brown eyes that had been burned into my retinas a thousand times over.
"I've watched you for years," I pushed on, the confession spilling out of me like something broken finally giving way. "Every photo. Every story. June and I... we're just two people who forgot why we ever got married. But you? You make me feel like I'm still alive."
Her breath hitched. She searched my face with a hunger I'd never seen on her before, and when she finally spoke, her voice came out small and wrecked.
"All this time?"