Chapter 26
Since he returned, Chris has been sending me text messages all week, which I’ve ignored.
He wants to see me, he wants to explain, he wants to have closure.
And I’m sure he also wants his stuff. I kept very little for him other than the Absolut, and I no longer have that.
He’s not going to be happy about this, but I wasn’t either when I poured half of it down the drain. I’m not sorry.
He doesn’t seem to realize we’re done. He’s the one who ended us by leaving for South America. He chose his coffeehouse crush and the Peace Corps over me. I could get past the Peace Corps, but I don’t see how we can ever get past Nadia.
When there’s a knock on my shed door later that night, I’m shocked to open it and find Chris.
It’s been over six months but he still looks the same. Blond, clean-cut, well manicured. A small part of me is happy to see him, like some of the cells in my body forgot what he’s done to us. Those memory cells seem to recall only the good times. Thankfully my higher-level brain is in charge.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“You won’t return my texts.”
I wave him inside. “I didn’t see the point. You probably want your stuff, but there isn’t much here.”
I grab the box of mementos and clothes and dump it at his feet.
He glances around my teeny-weeny living space, especially as compared to the condo we once shared, which actually had a separate dining and living area. And plenty of walls.
“Why are you staying in a shed?”
When he says it, he doesn’t sound much different from my mother. But in my mother’s case, and defense, she wasn’t responsible for it.
“There wasn’t much I could afford after I didn’t have your help with the rent and was left with all those cancellation fees for our wedding.”
The color drains out of his face and he covers his eyes, lowering his head.
“Damn, this is just one more example of my many failures. I’m going to pay you back for my half. And I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve been in a fever dream for months and I’m only now waking up.”
“Wow, Nadia must have sure cast a spell on you with her dark magic.” I snort.
It’s just like him to blame the woman.
“It wasn’t her. It had nothing to do with her in the end. The truth is I was afraid of dying.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw marriage as the end of my youth. It was another stage, the one before I became a parent, and another step closer to death.”
This makes me snort-laugh. “Oh my God, you must be the most romantic person ever! When you think of me, think of death. That should be a Hallmark card. You’re the one who wanted to get married! I would have been fine going along the way things were.”
“I’ve been thinking about all this, while I spent all that time building orphanages.
It was good for the soul. Gave me time to think.
My parents put all this pressure on me, to accomplish things by their rigid timelines.
I was supposed to get married by thirty.
It was on their damn calendar like my college graduation!
And of course, I love you, so it made sense for us to marry.
It just felt at the time that the closer I got to marriage, the closer I got to death. ”
“Um, gee, thanks?”
No wonder his proposal was so half-hearted.
Seriously, at the gym? Yeah, I get that’s where we met, but clearly he put almost no thought or creativity into it.
I neglected it at the time, thrilled someone wanted to marry me.
The romance of it all held me in a tight grip.
I thought Chris was The One. He hit all the markers.
He was handsome, intelligent, funny, charming, great body, honest and loyal (I thought) and he said all the right things.
Clearly I saw only what I wanted to see.
Yes, we were complete opposites, but opposites attract.
It was, however, simply difficult to live with him.
Eventually, we judged our differences. While I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see how wrong we were together.
As a romance writer, I was too in love with the idea of being in love.
“I screwed up big time. Please forgive me and give me another chance.” Chris drops to his knees and clasps his hands prayer-like.
I can’t believe this guy and his idea of romance. Begging and desperation after he just revealed I remind him of death.
“Get up. This is silly.”
Instead of getting up, Chris goes all in. He covers his face with his hands and does something I’ve never seen him do before, not even the time our cat died.
He cries.
It’s far more effective than I would have imagined.
He looks so pitiful kneeling there, the sobs echoing around the uninsulated shed.
An ache forms for this man I loved at one time.
It’s not his fault his parents had such incredibly strict guidelines for him.
And he’d joined the Peace Corps. Even if it was to follow a woman-crush, he’d done that, and put himself through the conditions of living in a third-world country.
I’d never seen him as a snob or I wouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place.
Tears spring to my eyes and I gently pat his head like I would a young child. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair but…I just can’t believe what I lost because I was too stupid to realize what I had.” He glances up at me, his eyes red. “I don’t deserve it, I know I don’t, but please say you’ll give me another chance. I’ll do anything.”
It seems cruel in his state to outright reject him even if he deserves it. Funny how when the pain you wished on someone actually happens, it doesn’t feel good. It’s not satisfying. Revenge, I’m sorry to say, does not taste sweet. Or maybe I’m just a grown-up now.
I’ve always believed in second chances. It’s one of my favorite tropes for a reason. But I can only think about Ryan, his soulful eyes, and the way his lock of hair continually falls over his glasses.
I want to be done with Chris. It is true we didn’t get closure.
He just took off and left me with everything to handle on my own.
I’m in this shed because of him. Then again, I met Ryan because of him and all these changes, too.
Now I have this opportunity I might have never had otherwise.
I see what Ryan meant when he forgave his ex for contacting his agent without his permission.
It led him to an amazing book he wouldn’t have written otherwise.
Then, I might never have met Ryan Brady.
Maybe this all happened for a reason, though when it comes to Chris, I know I’m being generous.
Chris leaving showed I don’t need a relationship for the sake of one. I proved that I could do hard things. It showed me the person I need most in my life is myself. And I’ve always had her.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“Really?”
His voice is laced with the faith of a child and I want to tell him not to get his hopes up because Santa isn’t real. He can’t bring you everything you want just because you asked for it. It doesn’t work that way.
“You’re right, we didn’t get closure. I’m not willing to take you back like nothing ever happened, but I’m open to seeing what comes next if I can ever manage to forget what you did.”
“That’s all I want.” His voice breaks, he stands and straightens to his full height and brushes off the legs of his khakis. “I’m going to show you why you should pick me again.”
“Right. But you also have to give me room, because a lot has happened to me since you’ve been gone.”
“I want to hear all about it.” He bends to leaf through the box of the few items he left behind with me. “I can’t believe I gave everything else away. That was the sign of a fever dream if there ever was one.”
“Actually, I think it was one of the best things to come out of this.” I clear my throat. “Now, let me explain something to you about the vodka.”
It turns out Chris is both shocked and in awe of what I’ve accomplished while he was gone.
He leaves an hour later, trying for a kiss, which I block.
Not going to happen. I don’t feel that guilty about the vodka.
Chris forgave my lapse in judgment in pouring it down the drain in a moment of anger and passion.
He agrees this was nothing less than he deserved and for the first time I wonder if this attitude change might actually stick.
It doesn’t mean I’ll take him back but it’s nice to know he’s learned something.
He’s promised he will “show me” he’s a better man and he’s going to come to the book signing with all his friends to support me.
I don’t tell him that with a book like Soulmates, I hardly need the support of whatever gym bros he can round up.
I suppose it’s nice to know he’s putting in the effort.
It will take a lot of forgiveness I’m not sure I have, but if I’d begged someone while crying on bended knees, I would hope they’d at least be a friend to me.
That’s all I can give him now, or ever. I’m being the mature one here because he deserves far worse and I know it.
I explain to Chris that my career is my focus now.
He promises he understands and encourages me to go for my dream, the way he thought he’d gone after his.
He was wrong, but my dream might work out better.
I try not to remember part of his dream was Nadia.
He’s conveniently neglecting this fact but I’m not likely to forget it.
The next week is a flurry of activities as Ryan and I both write side by side, and I exchange a flurry of email messages with Pepper as we prepare for the book signing downtown.
I decide not to tell Ryan about Chris because it isn’t like we’re back together.
Ryan wants me to resolve this, anyway, if we’re ever going to have another one of those hot kisses.
For now, we’ve got a work groove like no other.
Every once in a while, we’ll look up at each other from across the room and we both smile. Each time my heart flutters like I’m sixteen years old. There’s another feeling, far from pity, that draws me to him like a magnet.
Then there are the moments we both look up at the same time. One of us laughs, usually me, and the other follows suit.
“Why did I decide to be a writer?” Ryan says, mid-laugh.
“You like torture?”
“Must be.”
Now, Ryan is in the kitchen getting himself a drink and a few minutes later I decide I also need some water.
He’s heading back and as he passes by our hands brush against each other, our fingers touching.
It’s the only contact we’re allowing. I don’t know how Ryan manages to make the smallest gestures so enticing.
I’m pretty sure it will be years before I stop thinking about that one kiss we shared.
During a break I tell Ryan about my mother and Eddie.
Ryan quirks a brow. “And when did you decide to be okay with this?”
It’s harder to explain the decision I made to be fine with their relationship. It was unexpected but my mother had a huge part in it. In the end, it wasn’t pity, but my eternal respect for true love.
“My mother surprised me. We were having dinner and she got very upset about—” I stop myself, wondering how much of this I should censor for his sake. I violated the NDA but with people I trust will not repeat it.
“What?” he prompts.
“I’m sorry, but I let it slip that I didn’t actually write the book. But she’s my mother and knows how much trouble I’d get in. She thought maybe you were taking advantage of me in our arrangement. I assured her she’s wrong.”
I can tell he’s concerned when he leans forward and pinches the back of his neck. “We won’t tell anyone. That’s what I worried about. I didn’t ever want you to feel that way.”
“Please, no, don’t even go there. You haven’t taken advantage of me. Apparently we’re both in agreement that I should never follow in her footsteps.”
I briefly explain to Ryan that my mother has finally come to realize how much of her own self she gave up to please an entire industry, and a man.
Ryan removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “That’s got to be a tough thing for her to admit.”
“I’m proud of her. I never realized how deeply she regrets her own choices. She really only ever had my father who accepted her just as she was. And Eddie.”
Ryan doesn’t say anything but simply studies me with that blue-eyed gaze as if every word coming out of my mouth is something to revere. Something to treasure and value.
“When I think of Eddie, how much I love him, and how long he’s waited to be with my mother…I want to cry.” My voice breaks. “I would never want to be in the way of him having everything he’s ever wanted.”
There’s utter tenderness in Ryan’s eyes and I’m worried if he says a single word, the kindness in his voice will break me. I will not cry in front of Ryan. Again.
“I would wait a long time for you,” he says, and rather than tears, it’s utter shock that runs through me and wakes me up.
This is a splash of cold water rushing over me, the sharp chill of a freezing wind slicing through my skin.
They’re words I can’t ignore. Words I’ll never take for granted.
Delight pulses through me. He always knows the right thing to say to me, the precise words I need to hear.
I want to run to him. I want to plaster my mouth, my whole body to his.
I want to lean into him and never let him go.
But I don’t, because this thing between us can’t happen. At least not now.
And for once I’m fresh out of words.