His Shortcake

Chapter 19

Dustyn Franco

I closed my eyes as I gently pushed the door open, bracing myself for what lay beyond. Despite my inner pep talks, I lacked the courage to face her reaction to the contents of the room. This space held my only hope for reconciling with my conscience after years of ghosting Tamara. I clung to the hope that one day, she might see this and find some measure of happiness or closure.

Yesterday, when she had asked to see inside this room, I had gritted my teeth and declined her request with a grumpy demeanor. The shock on her beautiful face as I walked away lingered in my mind, leaving her standing there, stunned and hurt.

Reflecting on my behavior, I realize it was completely unjustified.

Mara has always been intensely curious. The more we told her not to touch things, the more she was inclined to do so. It's simply part of who she is.

I knew Mara's curiosity would get the better of her; it always did. That's why I woke up early to bake her some cookies. Pastries have always had a way of lifting her spirits, no matter the circumstances.

As I peeked into the room, I saw her face, a mixture of surprise and disbelief. She looked as if she could hardly believe what she was seeing, as if she were dreaming or that this sight was some elaborate joke. Tentatively, she stepped into the room.

I have to admit, the sight was overwhelming.

The room was filled with an array of wrapped boxes, stacked haphazardly and occupying nearly every inch of space. Some boxes were large, others smaller, and though I had long forgotten most of their contents, I remembered who they were intended for.

"Dy, what is this?" Mara asked, her voice tinged with confusion as she picked up a small box from the floor. She shook it gently, trying in vain to discern its contents. "Are you giving this to charity? These wrappers look so old."

I cleared my throat, bracing myself for the look of horror I feared would come once she discovered the truth. "They're for you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

I had never been more afraid in my life. It was the first time I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. The weight of my actions, the embarrassment of my long-overdue apology, was overwhelming, and I didn't know how to handle it.

I was terrified that Mara would see me as a creep, that she'd be too scared to come near me, or that she'd think all this effort was futile. I worried she'd question if it was worth the trouble she'd experienced since I reappeared in her life.

Years slipped by while I was in college, and I shut myself off from her—ignoring her calls and messages in a futile attempt to escape my feelings. I dated various girls, trying to force myself to move on, even though my heart was still anchored to the girl I had left behind. I convinced myself that loving her was wrong, that it was inappropriate to be in love with someone I had seen grow up. It was a painful time.

By the time I pulled myself together, it felt too late. The embarrassment of reaching out after all I had done was paralyzing. I didn't think Mara would want to hear from me. So, I sought solace in Alec's stories about his little sister, which never failed to remind me of her. The only time he stopped talking about Mara was when he discovered my feelings for her or when he met Aurora.

"Dy, what is all this for?" she asked softly, her voice laced with surprise.

I met her gaze and noticed a small smile playing on her lips as her eyes swept around the room. The sight made my nervousness melt away. A smile meant she wasn't furious. "I know it's a lot, but I missed out on years of your life."

She laughed, a sound that eased my anxiety. "Dy, you missed, like, six or seven years? Not fifty!" She gestured toward the sea of boxes.

"I know," I said, handing her a small box I had picked up on a recent trip. "But every time I traveled, whether to a store or another country, I found something I thought you'd like."