Another two weeks have passed since I last spoke with Max. It was bittersweet to realize that may be the last conversation we ever had. He was on the other side of the country now, living his dream, just as I was living mine in New York. My heart was heavy; Max had been my best friend for a long time. But I was also at peace, knowing that this was ultimately the best decision for us both. It was finally time for me to be happy.

Realizing that I couldn't mope about my failed relationship forever, the following Saturday, I decided to return to the coffee shop. Though I didn't want to admit it, I knew that I was hoping to see Jean-Paul again. A part of me would always belong to Max, but another, more dominant part was ready to move on; I hoped that I could do that with Jean-Paul.

So I grabbed my keys...

I had this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I worried that if I did run into Jean-Paul again, I would be met with cold indifference. Would he want to talk to me, to hear what I had to say?

I pulled out of the parking lot of my apartment complex and sped toward the coffee shop. In my haste, I arrived twenty minutes before my normal time.

Knowing that I had time to kill, I ordered an iced coffee and sat down.

I sat down at one of the tables and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I decided to create an Instagram account, the one form of social media I never used. For the username, I used blakely_evans in hopes that maybe if Jean-Paul wanted to find me on social media it would be the easiest way to find me.

I stared out of the coffee shop window for a while, watching customers come and go. I was disappointed each time a car arrived and Jean-Paul wasn't in it. After watching the parking lot obsessively for ten minutes, I let out a sigh, resigning that I may never see Jean-Paul again.

Before I gave up and walked out the door, I went to the counter and ordered a fruit infused tea and a dessert croissant.

My name was called at the pickup counter, and I grabbed my order. As I was walking back to my table to grab my jacket, I heard the doorbell ring. In walked Jean-Paul. My heart skipped a beat as Jean-Paul walked inside, looking even more handsome than I remembered, sporting a pair of jeans and a light blue buttoned-up shirt.

His eyes met mine and he looked away, heading to the counter in the opposite direction without a word.

By the look on his face, I knew he was upset with me. He had a reason to be; I had broken his heart by denying him a kiss. I had given him mixed signals, flirting with him one minute and acting interested in him, and then rebuking his advance the next. I had gotten into my own head, had let my emotions control my real feelings, but my heart yearned for him.

He didn't know the way my stomach filled with butterflies when he looked at me. He didn't know that I smiled just thinking of him. He didn't know that I had fallen for him, hard, and that he had been on my mind since the moment that we'd met. He didn't know the truth because I kept it hidden, and now, it was too late. He would never know how I felt.

After he ordered, Jean-Paul took a seat at another table across the room from where I was seated. I could see the hurt in his eyes as he gazed in my direction. I wanted to make this right. I had to do something to fix this mess.

I took a deep breath to brace myself, then got up from my seat with my tea and croissant in tow and walked across the room to the table he occupied.

"Can we talk?" I asked him, my voice cracked from the nervousness that had taken over my body.

"About what?" he asked, indifferent. He ran his finger along the lid of his coffee cup, staring out the window to avoid my eyes.

"About what happened at the beach. I feel like I owe you an explanation."

"Sure," he replied, offering me the seat across from him.

I could feel my hands getting sweaty and my heart beating out of my chest. The butterflies that I get every time I see him had returned. I took a big deep breath before spilling my heart out all over the table. I only hoped that he was ready to hear it.

"Before I start, I just want to say that I'm truly sorry for leading you on. That was never my intention. I want you to know that I really like you. I truly do. But when we went to the beach, I was truly hurting. I was grieving a lost love, and I allowed my hurt to take over my true feelings."

His eyes seemed to stare into the depths of my soul, the coolness in them warming with each word.

Finally, his eyes had turned from a look of anger and sadness to a look of compassion.

I paused to compose myself, tears pricking at my eyes as I remembered the ache of letting Max go. Jean-Paul didn't say a word. He remained silent, patiently allowing me to work through my conflicting emotions.

After a full minute of silence, I continued, "The day that we first met here in the coffee shop, I was not okay. My boyfriend at the time came to my house to propose to me. Afterward, he dropped the news that he had been offered a job in Seattle. He wanted me to go with him, but I couldn't leave New York. It's my home, the place I've wanted to live ever since I can remember. That's when I realized that Max and I had different dreams that we wanted to live and it wasn't fair for either of us to give up what we wanted for the other. Our plans changed from what they were when we originally started a relationship. Although I realize that people sometimes go their separate ways, it didn't make things any easier for me. I felt like I had my heart crushed and I was afraid to give my heart to another man. I fell hard for you the first day we met. But I tried to push my feelings aside. I fear that I will get too close and you will go away too."

I felt a scarlet hue creep up into my cheeks.

After I finished, I took a big breath, and feeling like a huge load had been lifted off of my shoulders. It felt good to talk about what happened and to lay my feelings out on the table. Without another thought, Jean-Paul grabbed my hands and held them in his.

"I'm so sorry that you went through that. I had no idea," he said. He lifted my right hand up close to his lips, and placed a soft kiss upon my hand as he continued "if you were feeling this way when we were at the beach, all you had to do was say so. I would have understood. Instead, I thought I'd misread the signals, and worried you'd think that I was trying to force myself on you. I would never want you to think so little of me, he said. His brows furrowed together, and his eyes became earnest. I have no intention of hurting you, Blakely, In the short time that I've known you, I have fallen for you, and I never want to let that go.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I tried to blink them back, but the salty water betrayed me, leaking from my eyes, and falling down my cheek. Jean-Paul caressed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away my tears. I gave him a watery smile.

"Do you want to go back to my apartment for a little bit?" The words sprang from my lips.

"Of course." He replied.

We gathered our trash and tossed it into the can on our way out. We walked outside as the warm air rushed through my hair. I felt the touch of his hand as he laced his fingers in mine. He looked at me, questioning if this contact was okay. I gave him a reassuring smile. Not only was his touch okay, it felt right. It made my heart happy to be back by his side. I looked at him as he looked back at me. There was no misreading these signals-he liked me as much as I liked him.

When we got back to my apartment, I unlocked the front door, and welcomed him inside. I motioned for him to have a seat on the couch while I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, then I sat on the cushion beside him.

"I'm sorry for being absent from the coffee shop, and I'm sorry for the way I came across earlier," he said, taking the glass of wine I offered him. I was embarrassed and hurt, and I worried that I hurt you, too. I liked you so much but that you didn't reciprocate those same feelings. I didn't come to America to find love or to grow close to anyone but I found it when I wasn't even looking."

He placed his hands on my face, and moved in close. I saw the question burning in his eyes. An internal war waged in my mind, going back and forth between it being too soon to move on, and being unable to fight the feelings I had for him. Logical or not, there was no denying how badly I wanted Jean-Paul to kiss me. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and nodded for him to continue. With a small smile, he touched his lips to mine. The moment that I had anticipated from the first time I've laid my eyes on this man had finally happened. The spark that I felt across my lips was unlike anything I've ever felt before. He pulled me in closer, holding me in a warm embrace as the kiss deepened.

As our lips parted, a silent tear of joy slipped out from my eye. I wiped it away before looking up and smiling at Jean-Paul.

"I promise that I will never hurt you, Blakely. If you wish to take things slow, then that is what we shall do. I have no intention of running away from you. I will stay as long as you want me to stay," he whispered in my ear. We cuddled up on the couch while enjoying our first movie date together. It may not have been an official date but it was perfect.