@ivyxrose
For a hopeless romantic, Miles Asher was typically anything but the committed type. As a teenager, he spent most of his free time sleeping with every girl at his high school and then eventually the entire state of New York came along for the ride. His ride, specifically. He was great at dating, flirting was easy to him- overly charming, sickly sweet, and with a killer jawline to boot; he was easily sought after. But he always broke things off before they got serious, never allowing himself the pleasure of falling in love because of fear he wasn't good enough. That he simply wasn't deserving of a magnificent love story. So, he kept all women at a distance, his heart locked far away.
That was until Ivy Rose changed everything, of course. Not that he allowed himself to fall--at first, anyway--their friendship blossoming immediately after they met, their competitive nature and constant trying to one-up the other ending with them both becoming better lawyers and people because of it. But Miles was guarded, and didn't want to risk losing her. She became his favourite person so quickly and he was glad that fate--and their friends--kept pushing them together until they both eventually caved and were honest with each other about how they really felt.
It was easy for him to open up to Ivy in the end. She was sensitive, kind, loving, and gentle, yet feisty and strong. She taught him how to love, healed parts of his soul he never imagined getting back, and he found safety and his home in her arms. He didn't have to push through his emotions, she met him wherever he was and was his lighthouse, calling him home to her every night. She was easy to love, and God, did he love her.
For three years, he wondered where she went. What happened to her. It didn't make sense for her to run away or vanish without a trace and Miles' logical brain was racked with questions. Everything with them was as close to perfect as you could get, and there was no note or returned call... Nothing. She was just gone. And it broke him. He cried for hours, locking himself away from anyone and everything to wallow in his sadness for months on end. He called her every day, texted her, looked on Google- the works. Eventually, the line went dead and her number was out of service and he never heard back, but he still texted her phone number every other day to update her on his life, express how much he missed her, and how he wished for her safe return.
And now here she was. Standing safely in front of him and as real and as beautiful as he remembered her. Even more beautiful, actually. At her confirmation, he immediately began to cry. Quickly, he raced to close the few feet of space between them and scooped her up in his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he skillfully moved them both back inside his apartment and closing the door with his foot. His hands roamed her back and shoulders, his calloused fingers gripping tightly to ensure he wasn't dreaming as began sobbing. His body shook slightly as he slid them both to the floor, his back against the door as he held her as close to him as she could be, afraid that letting go would result in her vanishing in front of him.
"Don't ever be sorry." He whispered, "Don't you ever apologize." His tears were staining her clothes but his words were tender and quiet, a smile creeping onto his face, the cacophony of his cries ranging from sadness to elation. "I can't believe you're here. You're here and you're so beautiful and you're alive." He pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead with hers and letting their eyes meet again for the first time, "I am so fucking glad you're okay."
