Defining Us (Rocky Waters)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

AINSLEY

S topped at the red light on Main Street, Tim McGraw's “Red Ragtop” came on the radio. The irony was not lost on me, and I couldn’t help but let out a nervous giggle. Grabbing my phone off the seat next to me, I unlocked it and opened up my text messages. Rereading his last message for the 1000th time, an ounce of the tension I'm feeling released. It didn’t help, but at this point, I was fairly certain nothing would. I will continue to convince myself that this was the best option for all involved and not allow the ton of guilt I felt to creep in. Not even a little bit. Nope, not even a tiny bit.

I looked up to see the light changing to green and pushed ahead toward my destination. I knew the building wasn’t too far up on the right; I knew the turn was at a light but not exactly sure which one. Coming up to another red light, I spied his car a few cars back. Immediately my lips turned up into a small smile. At least he was punctual, and he followed through with his promise. He said he would come, but a tiny bit of doubt had crept in. It was focus on that or my immense guilt. I chose doubt. Now that he was actually here, the doubt faded, but I was trying to keep the guilt at bay. Knowing I'm not alone in this helped. Although I was pretty sure that the effects of our decision, to some extent, will forever haunt me. Unlike him. He won't ever have to answer “Yes” to that specific question like women have to.

The light turned green, but I didn’t realize it until the car behind me started beeping at me, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the present. Without a glance back, I turned into the parking lot and started to look for a spot. I found one a few rows from the front door. I pulled in and shut off the car. There was a spot right next to mine, and I was hoping he saw it too. I glanced at the clock. Our appointment was in fifteen minutes. I went to grab my bag from the passenger's seat, but before I even had it in my hands, he was parked next to me, hopping out of his car and climbing into mine.

Taking him in, he was a bit disheveled in comparison to his normal put together self. His button-down shirt was untucked and his jeans were wrinkled. The hair that poked out from beneath his baseball cap was sticking out every which way. His face conveyed mixed emotions, one of which was definitely guilt, which honestly surprised me a little.

He was staring straight ahead out the windshield. He seemed nervous, worried almost. Placing my hand on his thigh, he jumped slightly. “Hey, you okay?” I asked, sensing him tense up even more at my touch.

Sighing, he looked over to me. He furrowed his brow. Considering this was his idea, I didn’t expect this behavior from him.

I didn’t want to ask the question that it looked like he was begging me to ask. I had made my decision; I couldn’t allow him to change my mind now, even though I knew the guilt might consume me at some point.

He shook his head. “Are we doing the right thing?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

I glared at him, even though he wasn’t looking in my direction. From this angle, his face looked even more worried. “You can't say things like that now,” I told him incredulously. “This was your idea. And while I didn't need much convincing, I don't know that I would have come to this decision on my own without your prodding.” I couldn’t believe he was asking this now. My temperature began to rise as I began to comprehend his reservations.

“Ultimately it's your decision,” he told me. “It’s your body. ”

And he just played the woman card. Well, that's fabulous. Such the man thing to do. Too bad he was acting like such a boy right now.

“Look, I’m keeping this appointment. I would like you to join me at it but will understand if you can't or don't want to.” Inhaling deeply, I added, “I think deep down, we both know this is for the best.”

He turned to face the window. After another audible sigh, he let himself out of the car. I was caught off guard for a split second, wondering what decision he was going to make and what thoughts were racing through his mind.

Before I could ponder what to do, he was around to my side of the car and was opening my door. I quickly grabbed my bag and climbed out of the car. He closed the door behind me and pulled me into him. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he hugged me tightly.

Pulling away, he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Ainsley,” and I thought he was going to leave me on my own. Much to my surprise, he grabbed my hand in his, which was clammy to the touch. He led me to the building.

As we walked, I tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to forget his reservations and compartmentalizing my own emotions about what we were about to do.

I was naive to believe that all of the promises we made to one another would be upheld. It wasn’t until months later that I realized the true irony in the lyrics of “Red Ragtop.”