Free Love in the Details by Becky Wade

stayed in school?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œSee? By breaking up with you, at least I could be fairly certain that you’d excel in school and in your career. Those were the things that your mom and I wanted for you.”
    â€œWhat about what I wanted?” His frank question caused her whole body to still. “Did you or my mom ever stop to consider that?”
    â€œWe . . . I mean, we thought that you wanted to leave MIT and come home to Texas.”
    â€œWould that have been so terrible?”
    â€œYes!”
    He cocked his head to the side an inch, waiting.
    â€œLook at you,” Holly said. “You’re a tremendous success.”
    â€œBusiness success isn’t everything in life.”
    She parted her lips to defend—defend what? Defend his own outstanding accomplishments? Business success wasn’t everything in life. She couldn’t take the position that it was, especially since she didn’t know how fulfilled or unfulfilled his own success had left him. “I broke up with you because I wanted what I thought was best for you more than anything else. Do you believe me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCan you forgive me?”
    She nearly had cardiac arrest while she waited for him to answer. He was a thoughtful man. A man who could not be slowed when his mind had been made up or rushed when he needed time to think.
    He gave her a small, sad smile and placed his hand on his knee, palm up. An invitation.
    She placed her hand in his and his fingers tightened around it. She was holding his hand! Sensory details rushed through Holly’s nerves, buzzing and spinning, wondrously sweet. He’d offered her his hand in a gesture of camaraderie, a nostalgic acknowledgment of all they’d shared when they’d been young and bound together by first love.
    â€œIt’s forgiven,” Josh said. “I just need time to . . . process.”
    â€œSure.” Hot moisture pushed against the backs of her eyes. All this time, she’d wanted to tell him that she was sorry. What she hadn’t realized until now? How crucial it would be to hear him say he’d forgiven her. “Thank you.”
    â€œHow’s anyone supposed to stay mad at you? Is there a mean bone in your body?”
    â€œThere are a few. I can be downright cruel to fictional bad guys.”
    He did not appear impressed.
    â€œI have uncharitable thoughts about Mitzi, Amanda and Ben’s wedding coordinator.”
    â€œHuh.”
    She got lost in his beautiful eyes, in the texture of his strong, warm fingers around hers. “It took me a really long time to get over you,” she murmured before she’d thought through the comment or given herself full permission to speak it.
    â€œBut you eventually did?”
    â€œEventually.” Maybe that answer was close enough to true not to be a lie? Or maybe that lie would become true next month or next year?
    He stood, breaking the link between them, then helped her scoot out her chair. They chatted about the weather while they collected their outerwear. He shrugged into his navy pea coat.
    That dratted coat. It made him resemble a hero in a romantic movie. Six-plus feet of intelligent, unattainable handsomeness. She had an overpowering urge to grab the lapels of that coat and rise onto her tiptoes to kiss him. She wanted to ruffle his hair and his mastery of himself, and she really wanted to shatter the careful good manners between them.
    That wayward thought, coupled with her uninvited affection for him, sent a stab of fear through her.
    What was that famous groundhog’s name? Punxsutawney Phil? Every time he saw his shadow and returned to his hole, folks could expect six more weeks of winter. She did not want Josh to become her Punxsutawney Phil. She refused to face eight more years of heartache every time she saw him. She’d done one bout of heartache courtesy of Josh. She could not do another eight years. No