My name came out rough and breathless. I waited.
He pushed forward another few inches, then stopped short of my shoes.
“Elena, I’m sorry. For everything. For Leo.” His fingers tightened around the chair arms. “I was blind. Arrogant.”
Tears ran through the dirt on his face.
“Isabella lied to me. She showed me what I thought I wanted. I thought I could keep both of you, and I was wrong.”
He leaned toward me. “It was always you. You understood me. You held everything together. I love you. I never stopped.”
He had rehearsed this. After each sentence, he watched my face for the reaction that used to tell him which version of an apology might work.
“Please,” he said. “Give me one chance. I have almost nothing left, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
I stepped back.
