“Well, what are you doing here?” My hand rested on my cocked hip and my head tilted as I waited for an answer. I didn’t usually get company at one in the morning.

“I didn’t like the way things were left between us. You ran. Again,” he admonished my childish behavior earlier in the day. “Can I come in?”

“My sister is sleeping on the couch.”

Just then the door behind me popped open and my wide-eyed sister bounded out with her purse slung over her shoulder. The shit-eating grin on her face had me cringing. Who knew what she was capable of? Her love of tormenting and embarrassing me knew no bounds.

“Wow! Matt DiGristino! What’s it been? Five years?”

“Almost six,” he answered her with a smirk on his face.

Kenya knew exactly how long it had been. The brat. I didn’t like the reminder that in a drunken stupor the day after Matt left for college, I had wild, raunchy sex with a guy a few years ahead of us in school, whom I barely knew, and ended up pregnant with Rachel.

Matt was a smart guy. I’m sure he had done the math and figured it out too. Hell, he probably didn’t need to, knowing the way small town gossip always spread like wild fire.

“Kenya was just leaving.” I pushed her down the hall and prayed she’d leave without making a scene. Surprisingly, the thought of being alone with Matt wasn’t nearly as scary as what Kenya might say to him.

“It was great to see you again Matt! Maybe you can loosen up my big sister and get her to live life again! Play a little slap and tickle with her or something!” she called out over her shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from Matt and a groan from me.

“Goodbye, Kenya,” I returned before Matt could say anything.

“Well children, you two behave yourselves. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she shouted back at us as she jogged down the stairs.

“It would seem Kenya is still the same rambunctious girl she used to be. I guess some things don’t change.” His laugh and the fondness in his voice told me he appreciated that.

“That it would,” I concurred.

A brief silence settled around us and I fidgeted with my keys, shifting my purse to another shoulder while shuffling my feet.

“So…” I trailed off feeling awkward and unsure what to do or say.

“So,” he parroted. “You going to let me come in?”

“Oh right!” I turned and opened the door, completely forgetting that I shouldn’t be alone with him and that I had been trying to avoid the conversation that I knew was coming.

“It isn’t much,” I warned. “I haven’t had a chance to clean this week.”

“I don’t care about that,” he reassured me.

Matt followed me into my small, two-bedroom apartment. Thankfully it appeared as though Kenya had gotten bored and straightened up. I could kiss her for it.

My eyes followed Matt’s around the small living room as he took his time checking it out, touching on the kitchenette and ending on the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The tweed couch my parents gave me was the only nice thing in the room and even that had more wear and tear than I’d have liked.

He walked over to the shelf lined with pictures of Rachel and me from the time she was a tiny little newborn to the one Kenya took of us on her first day of Kindergarten.

“It doesn’t matter what things I’ve done wrong in my life. She’s my pride and joy. The one thing I know I did right.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder with an inscrutable look. “What things have you done wrong?”

“Lots,” I admitted.

His legs swiftly closed the distance between us in several long strides. “Tell me,” he demanded.

With only a few inches separating us, I could barely think. He smelled so damn good. Like warm masculinity. It was a potent smell. One that made a woman want to just bend over and take whatever he was offering.

“Tell me,” he repeated a little more forcefully. “I need to hear it. Please.”

The plea in his voice had me losing it. It was just like that night I left him standing on the railroad tracks wondering why I was breaking up with him. My chest felt heavy from the crushing weight of all my decisions, and tears sprang into my eyes.

“Leaving you was my biggest mistake,” I said in a low murmur.

A lone tear tracked down my face. His words from that night echoed in my brain again—the same way they had so many times over the last six years.

Why aren’t I enough for you?

“You were always enough for me,” I finally said the words that had threatened to come out that night so long ago. The ones that would have set me free while at the same time would have chained him to a nobody. I was a loser with no promising future.

His eyes closed and a look of relief seemed to wash over his face. Until that moment I hadn’t realized that his body had been so tense until it visibly relaxed in front of me—his muscles loosening and his shoulders slumping.

“But why?” His eyes searched my face, imploring me to make sense of my actions from long ago.

“Because you deserved more than what I had to offer.”

“What?” he asked in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense because I vividly recall wanting anything and everything with you. We planned our future together—the Rachels and the Vincenzos. The white house with the red door and a white picket fence. I’d be a teacher while you’d raise the kids. How did you ever think that I needed any more than that?”

“I’m a nobody who couldn’t afford college. Without me weighing you down, you were able to go to Princeton like your dad wanted. If I hadn’t left you, you would have gone to State College just so you could be close to me. I would have ruined your dreams.”

He cursed loudly. His arm cocked and he punched the drywall next to me, leaving an indent. I was startled by his outburst. It was so unlike him to not be calm and in control.

“You were my fucking dream, Miranda.” His voice was low and angry. Tension reverberated off of him, and he began pacing back and forth in front of me, lost in thought.

I bit my lip to fight off the surge of tears threatening to pour from my eyes. Regardless of what he said, it was too hard to consider that I might have been wrong. Knowing he was better off without me was the only thing that had kept me going all these years.

“Now what?” He stopped his pacing and asked.

His unexpected question caught me off guard and it took me several seconds to answer him. “I don’t know, Matt.”

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I want to hear.” He stalked towards me with a glint in his eyes that had me swallowing hard.

“No, I don’t.”

“Tell me what I want to hear.” His lips teasingly glided across my cheek and down my jaw.

“I can’t,” I said weakly.

“Yes you can. Tell me, Miranda.”

I closed my eyes when his breath fanned across my cheek. I was so afraid of making another wrong decision. What if our time had passed? What if we were just meant to be a really great memory?

“Tell. Me. Dammit, just fucking tell me. You have to be the one to say it.”

“What do you want to hear? That ever since I saw you again, all I’ve wanted to do is jump your damn bones?”

Beyond done with his tormenting, I brought out the sass, hoping it would make me seem stronger than I really was. Because inside I was ready to crumble at his feet and sob like a baby. Too many emotions were swirling inside of me.

His lips rested against my ear as he chuckled softly. “Did you just say jump your bones?”

“Oh shut up!” I pushed his shoulders as hard as I could but he barely moved at all.

When his laughs at my attempt to manhandle him waned, he looked at me considerately before murmuring, “That’s a perfect idea.”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, I found myself pinned against the wall with his deliciously hard body against mine. His tongue plunged into my mouth, and his hands gripped my hips, pulling me against the bulge in his jeans.