You can admit to yourself, now, that you may indeed be the only thing standing in the way of your own happiness.
The conviction in his eyes when he was talking to Mrs. Merchant, the way his gaze slid over to you when he spoke of a lifetime with someone to love- it reinforces that idea. You are the only one standing in the way of what you have openly admitted that you want, because he's made his feelings for you quite obvious and she is no longer here.
Somehow though, that doesn't make it hurt any less. You can look at him now without feeling the urge to cry or fall into a fit of rage. But while your heart may have been pieced back together, it is still far from completely healed. The thought of him being with her still twists a knife in you, leaves you short of breath for a few seconds, makes you wonder if you'll ever be able to measure up to all of the expectations she set. No... you are not healed, and all it will take is a bump in the wrong direction to shatter your heart into a million pieces again.
You have long since given up on the idea of acting as if you don't have feelings for him anymore. That was your first idea, when your thoughts were still muddled by your grief and pain- to ignore how you felt for him, go back to the way everything was before... Before she intruded on what was yours, before you chased him across universes just to bring him home, before Jacksonville and his almost-kiss, when you first realized that there could possibly be something more between the two of you than just friendship.
But that's impossible now. Because even if you could get that old dynamic back in place of the tension that connects the two of you, you find yourself inexorably drawn to him, and you know that somewhere in the back of you thoughts would always be a what-if?
You've never been one to back down from a challenge. And never has a challenge hurt you so much, at your very core. But you cannot, will not, let her win.
Peter is something you are not willing to lose.
So if you cannot force yourself to forget, and you cannot force yourself to let him go, you are left with only one option- forgive. And while you doubt you will ever forget, you can at least move forward.
As your thoughts trend toward that decision, the only one that you can realistically make, you are left with a series of images that flash through your mind- the way he cupped your face in his hand at Jacksonville, the way he gazed back at you when you bared your soul to him on the other side, and the anguish on his face when he told you about his relationship with her.
And for the first time, you are smacked in the face by the sheer simple fact that you were not the only one hurt by all of this. The guilt comes as you realize that while you were betrayed, he was used, the feelings that he had for you taken advantage of for her own purposes.
And he came back to this universe for you.
Before you even realize what you're doing, your keys are in your hand and you're leaving your apartment, snagging the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen island almost as an afterthought. You need to see him, to talk to him, to fix this. You hope it's not too late. It can't be too late.
And now you're standing on his porch, pausing before you knock, not knowing exactly what you're going to say or how he's going to respond. You almost lose your nerve, almost turn away and leave. But you can't. And so you knock, heart in your throat, pulse beating out a staccato rhythm beneath your ribcage as he opens the door.
"I might be being presumptuous, but um..." You hold the bottle of whiskey out, the glass cold and smooth beneath your fingers. "I was thinking maybe...?"
You breathe a sigh of relief as he steps to the side to let you in and follow him into the kitchen, so many possibilities in your mind.
"Peter, what you said to Mrs. Merchant... I want what you want."
His smile makes your heart skip. "What do you think we should do about that?"
And finally, you realize that the best thing to say is nothing at all, because actions speak more loudly than words do. And so you kiss him, your arms going around his neck and his around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you lose yourself in his kiss.
Then, even though it's a leap of faith, you extend your hand to him, your fragmented heart laid out in your palm. And as he slips his hand into yours, you know he'll keep it safe.