For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) by Stephanie Alba Page A

the best at making me feel better. He was my person. He knew what to feed me, how to hold me, the little comforts that soothed my troubles at the end of the day. He understood when I needed pushing or when it was better to remain quiet and listen. I think that’s what I longed for most, the familiarity you gain when you’ve grown with someone. It felt wasted, gone forever, and if I ever allowed myself to love again, I’d have to start from the beginning. I didn’t just miss Aaron, I missed how I felt having someone on my team every second of the day.
    I slept for most of Sunday, grateful that I didn’t have to see Rhys until Tuesday. He had texted me first thing in the morning, the chime bringing me out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still in my mouth. My heart simultaneously jumped and dropped upon seeing his name on the screen.

    Rhys: Ellie, I can’t tell you how bad I feel. I didn’t sleep last night and I know I’ve been the worst shit. Please let me know you’re okay, that we’re okay?

    I didn’t answer it, putting it back on my nightstand and eating breakfast instead. Afterward, I watched chick flicks on the couch and must have fallen asleep because I awoke to a loud knock on the door. Jolting up, I caught my bearings and checked through the peephole. No one was there, but when I opened it I found a box with a card on it, brought it in and quickly opened it.

    Ellie,
    I feel like a fool. I mistakenly hurt someone that I’ve felt closer to than ever before. I took my frustrations out on you, knowing that our time was cut short and broke your trust. I know you have those walls up for good reason, but it’s hard to be close with you when it feels you’re always pushing me away. I know you’re protecting yourself, but you needn’t protect yourself from me. I care for you. You can trust me. Meeting you has been such a heartfelt happening, and I’m not going anywhere. Please forgive my idiocy, it won’t happen again.
    Your friend,
    Rhys

    P.S. enjoy the cakes. They’re from my favorite bakery.

    “When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down, and ask of thee forgiveness.” - King Lear, Act 5, Sc 3

    Realizing how immensely he cared for me made me come off as irrational. He hadn’t lied since he’d met me and I had no reason to doubt him. Worst of all he knew exactly what I was doing, proving that he knew me better than I gave him credit for. How was it that after two weeks he understood it all? His delivery was sweet, as were the cupcakes inside, and I thought it was clever that he had included a Shakespeare quote. Obviously, Rhys knew how to butter me up, but no matter what he’d done, I still felt hesitant to talk about Aaron ever again. The damage had scared my open heart and settled into my brain, and I wasn’t sure I could forget it. Maybe if I talked to him about it, he would understand. I texted him a while after to let him off the hook.

    Me: Thanks for everything, but especially the apology.

    Rhys: Can I come by in an hour? I’d like to see you.

    Me: Sure, why don’t we meet at the park?

    ∞
    Facing him didn’t seem like the best idea, but my heart couldn’t resist. In choosing the park, I hoped to gain some middle ground, a place where I didn’t feel trapped by his presence while exposing the mess my apartment had become in misery. Forgiving him was one thing, but was continuing to see him practical? Probably not, especially because I couldn’t stop obsessing over him, wondering if he was attracted to me, or what his lips would feel like on my skin. The effect he’d had in just two weeks couldn’t end well if I continued seeing him, especially if I was picturing his mouth on mine. Yet I still agreed to my infatuation, because after two miserable years, Rhys was the only therapy that worked.
    We agreed to meet by the Peter Pan statue in Hyde Park, and I approached him on the path noticing his head hung low. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up at me with glassy blue eyes