Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

40. Tayla

I clear my throat and try again. "What if I ask you to come, and you move there, and we don't work out?" What if I'm just afraid, and I'm clinging to what I know? Is that what this tightness in my chest is?

"I let the fear of the unknown get to me last time, and I'm not doing that again. If you ask, and I agree to go, that's on me. I'll own that choice. The outcome, whatever we become, whether we stick together or fall apart, that's on us."

I bite the inside of my cheek, indecision warring in me. I'm not even in Scotland yet. How can I be sure I'll even want to stay the year? I've committed to the exchange, but if I'm miserable, I might be asking him to uproot his life to live in misery with me. Is that fair? Even if the thought of leaving him behind makes my stomach roll?

The waiter removes our plates, Simon pays the bill, and I can't seem to get words past my lips. We walk back to our hotel room in silence, and my mind is a jumble of thoughts, and I can't figure out which outcome is the right one. Come with me. Wait for me.

Let each other go.

Simon squeezes my hand. "You okay? You're almost hyperventilating."

I drop his hand and press my fingers against my temples. Even if I could let him go, I don't want to. I don't. I want him in my life. That last option isn't the right one for me, for us.

"Honestly, I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to be making any sort of big, lifechanging decision tonight. The last impulsive one I made isn't working out so well. Whatever I said to you, I don't know if I'd mean it. I think I should mean it."

"That's fair." He runs a hand down my hair and kisses the top of my head. "There's no pressure from me. But I—if the choice is mine, I choose you, any road that leads me to you, I choose that one."

We're at the door to our hotel room, and I press my back against it, not getting out the key to let us in. Simon braces his hands on either side of the frame and stares down at me. Green eyes, so vibrant they almost don't seem real. Eyes I could drown in.

"I love you. If you ask me to come at any point, I'll come. If you ask me to wait, I'll wait." He swallows and breaks eye contact. "If you tell me to let you go, I'll do that too."

"Not the last option," I say. "We've tried that and breaking up was overrated."

He lets out a soft chuckle full of relief and his green eyes soften like a field after the rain. "Overrated, huh?"

"Fear shouldn't drive a decision like this, should it? I shouldn't ask you to uproot your life because I'm afraid to go alone. I should ask you because having you anywhere but there just doesn't make sense." I take a deep breath. "And I don't think I'll know that until I'm there, you know?"

"You had me at not the last option." He grins. "Whatever you decide, I'm yours."

I rise onto my toes and circle my arms around his neck. "And you're mine." For the first time in weeks, the rolling anxiety is gone from my stomach. The fear that's been gripping me for days at the thought of leaving has disappeared. Maybe my fear wasn't in leaving but in leaving him.

When our gazes meet again, I slide my hands from around his neck to frame his face and then I kiss him like I'm leaving tomorrow, like we'll never get another night like tonight. Because no matter what I decide or when I decide it, tomorrow afternoon I'll be alone in Scotland. We'll never be in New York City, staring down this abyss of uncertainty. If we ever come back we'll be different people, in a different place. Somehow, through fate or chance or circumstance, we found our way back to each other, and I don't want to waste another second being angry or wishing we came together another way. Whatever path we took, we're here now.