Even in the moments where I was fully with Easton I let the dread of wondering when the other shoe would drop steal my happiness. Now here I was, having probably cheated myself out of something amazing. I didn’t know if Easton would be up for giving me one more chance. I would not blame him if he didn’t. But I swore I would not let him spend one more day thinking that he wasn’t enough for me.

By the time I was walking into the elevator I started wondering if Easton even wanted to see me. Still I made myself move. I took a couple of breaths and I tapped in the code to the penthouse floor.

The elevator for Easton’s place basically left you at his door, in a small hallway. Stepping out of it, I felt like I was the creepiest fucker on earth. I stood there like an asshole, in front of his door, deciding between calling him or going back to my place and texting him to ask if I was okay for me to come by. I must’ve been more pressed than I thought, because Easton’s voice coming from the end of the hallway made me jump like a foot in the air.

“What are you doing here?” I turned to see him walking toward me carrying some folded up cardboard boxes.

“Are you moving?” As soon as the question came out of my mouth, I realized how fucking stupid it was, and by the incredulous look Easton was giving me, it seemed like he was having the same thought.

He paused just beyond the door, and gave me an assessing look. He ran his eyes all over me, but I noticed it wasn’t in the appreciative, flirtatious way he usually did. This was guarded and very far from the warmth I’d become used to. He looked at me like I was someone he had to be careful with, and that, more than anything, finally brought home just how badly I squandered the gifts that Easton had given me.

That stopped now.

“I won’t say I’m sorry, because I’ve already done that and continued to act like a clueless jerk. But I do want to say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, Patrice, everything that happened between you and me was out of free will and my desire to be with you.”

He was still holding himself tightly, the boxes in a death grip in his hands, and I wanted to move closer. To take them out of his hands and hold him, touch him for the first time in so many days. But I didn’t want to take anything else from Easton that I was not willing to give right back to him.