What would I even say? We’re strangers now. Nothing to each other but an ugly past.

At least I am to you. To me, you are something different.

You have no idea that tonight, when I stood at that podium and said,

“I thank the stars for leading me here. Nothing is possible without them.”

I was speaking of you.

Anyway, I just thought you should know.

Or the “you” that is in my head.

Always yours,

—Macon

“Oh, God,” I whisper in the empty silence. My eyes burn hot when I press my cold fingers to them. “God.”

The diamond necklace on the table winks at me, and I pick it up. It’s so fine and light I barely feel it against my skin, and yet it’s the most substantial and real gift I’ve ever received. Macon gave me everything he had when he bought me this, even though he had little hope of my forgiveness or friendship.

There are eleven tiny diamonds on the chain. Eleven. The age I was when I met Macon. The number on Macon’s high school football jersey. Come May, it will be eleven years since we fought at prom.

He’s still giving me everything he has.

It takes me two tries to get the necklace on. It settles like gossamer upon my skin. Then I’m rising.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Macon

There’s something cathartic about doing the thing I most feared. Even if I don’t know how Delilah will react to my letters, she has them now. She’ll read them and know all those secret thoughts I never expected to tell anyone. I’m glad she has them. They belong to her.

Doesn’t stop me from feeling agitated as hell. I can’t seem to settle. I pace my office, then my room. I don’t want to be in my room. I can see the bath from here, and I cannot look at that damn bath without thinking of her slim, capable hand on my cock . . .

“Shit.”

I push open the balcony doors and step out. The sun is hot and bright. I turn my face into a breeze and breathe deep. The air smells of salt and sea and sweetgrass. I let it calm me as much as I can, but nothing truly helps. I’ll only settle when I can face her again.

I’m sitting in the chair I once cuddled Delilah in, my knee bouncing, my gaze on the horizon, when I hear a noise and look up.

She stands a few feet away, her big eyes glassy. Is she upset? Happy? I’m too worked up to get a proper read on her.