Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
WILL
“ I ’m in love with you, Will.”
Shit.
I stop chewing my club sandwich mid-bite, blinking a couple of times. Across the table from me, Christine’s eyes are lit up with a passion that I unfortunately cannot reciprocate.
My chest burns with guilt. I finish my bite and swallow the food, although I can’t get the lump in my throat to dissipate. Carefully, I place a hand on hers and take a deep breath.
She’s even done up her red hair in loose curls, the way I like it. God damn.
When the skin of our hands meets, she perks up even more, but as soon as she notices the look in my eyes, her light dims. “Oh, no.”
“Look, Christine,” I begin, tasting bile at the back of my throat, “you’re a wonderful woman. And I’ve really enjoyed our time together these past few months. But …”
“You don’t …” Her green eyes turn glassy, and her lower lip trembles. “Love me?”
If only I could say I do. If only I were capable of feeling this way. Unfortunately, this situation has been a repeat of every other relationship I’ve had over the last ten years.
Which is to say, a dud.
“I’m sorry.” I try to sound as sincere as I feel. I gently squeeze her hand, but she pulls it away, holding it close to her chest. A tear falls from her eye, which now reflects back the hurt I knew I would cause. “I didn’t want to lead you on. I sincerely wanted to see how things would go. I didn’t realize you …” Of course I didn’t realize how into me she was. I’ve been spending way too much time at the office. I couldn’t award her the attention she deserves.
“Well, I do.” She swallows, trying hard not to completely fall apart in front of me. “So, what, you’re breaking up with me? Because I said I’m in love with you?”
I close my eyes for a moment. “I just don’t think it’s possible for me.” I leave out the part where I’m starting to think it may not be possible at all with any woman—not just with Christine.
I think of my sister Rachel, who’s happily married with two adorable twin boys. Why can’t I have that? Why can’t I fall in love and have kids of my own?
I used to think only the second half of that equation was impossible for me, and that the first half could be within my grasp. But if I can’t fall for someone like Christine, who is perfect for me in theory, maybe none of it will ever happen.
She’s smart. She’s driven, inspirational. And to top it off, she’s beautiful.
Exactly like her.
I push that thought away before it can take up any more real estate in my mind.
Christine nods, another tear escaping down her cheek. “Okay.” Without another word, she stands and leaves the restaurant.
Most women scream or explode into tears. Others berate me. But this—simply walking away—is almost worse. After all, I think I rightfully deserve their anger. Now I know Christine will go nurse her wounds on her own, or with her friends, even though I’m the one who caused them.
I pay the bill and head out onto Mont-Royal Street, where the early October air infuses my senses with an invigorating freshness, which does little to lift my mood. The trees planted along the street are ablaze with the fiery palette of autumn. Leaves in vibrant shades of crimson, burnt orange, and sun-kissed gold form a vivid mosaic above and beneath my feet. Each step I take crunches satisfyingly on the carpet of fallen leaves, releasing a rich, earthy scent that mingles with the crispness of the air.
These bright autumn colours are a strange but familiar contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city. The symphony of urban life crescendos around me—the rhythmic patter of footsteps on pavement, the occasional bark of laughter, and the distant hum of traffic meld into a lively backdrop.
But all of that isn’t enough to chase away the shadow cast within my heart.
Instead of heading back in the direction of the office, I take a sharp left when I cross Saint Denis Street. I whip out my phone and text my boss.
Will: Gonna take an extended lunch. Don’t have any meetings so I’ll just catch up on my hours tonight
Ryan: Yeah no worries
Before I slip my phone back into my pocket, a notification pops up from Google Photos. Curious, I click on it—and immediately regret it.
It’s one of those memory-style notifications, this one from a year ago. The image is a selfie of me with my arm around Matthew’s shoulders and we’re each holding a beer. We’ve also both got our party faces on. My chestnut hair was overdue for a buzz.
This photo is from the exact evening everything changed. The very same night I severed our lifelong friendship.
Without even thinking about it, I delete the photo. I didn’t even know I’d taken that, let alone kept it.
The phone starts vibrating—can’t I get a break and walk in peace? But as soon as I see Rachel’s name pop up, I answer without hesitation. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Rachel’s voice sings in my ear as I resume my walk. “You still on your lunch break?”
I’m not going to get into how my lunch break has been going so far. I don’t think I even mentioned Christine to Rachel. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I mentioned a woman to my sister.
I always break things off before it gets serious.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Okay, good.” Rachel pauses. A dark foreboding sweeps its way through me, and my body stiffens in anticipation. “So, I just left Océane’s place.” My stomach drops. “She’s never going to admit it, because of course she won’t, but she could really use some extra money for some clothes. Her stuff is falling apart.”
Right. I swallow and immediately jump into my response.
“Okay, yeah, of course. I’ll send her some money.”
There’s a moment of silence, followed by a deep sigh. “You know, you could just go see her, too. She’d be happy with just that.”
“I know.” Of course I know that. But every time I try to convince myself to pay our little sister a visit, I freeze, my brain bombarded by visions of her I wish I could banish forever.
I never know how to deal with that. So I don’t.
Shame creeps up my spine. Océane already has shit parents; she deserves a good brother. Why can’t I give that to her?
Maybe it’s for the best that I’ll never be a father. I can’t even show up for the sister who needs me the most.
“You sound down,” Rachel observes. “What’s wrong?”
Apart from how I’m a terrible brother and a shit boyfriend? Not much. I should have known better than to try and hide things from Rachel. “Just broke it off with someone. It wasn’t serious. I’m okay.” It’s not me I’m worried about.
Another sigh escapes from the phone receiver. “You know you have to move on from her eventually, right?”
I grunt into my phone. “I’m trying to.” If I wasn’t trying, I wouldn’t be entering all these relationships. I’d stop breaking all these women’s hearts. This is me trying.
“Okay.” Rachel’s voice is softer. “Still on for dinner Thursday?”
“Yeah.” I turn on Duluth Avenue to head back toward the office. “See you then. I gotta head back to work.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up, dead set on using the remainder of my walk to get my head on straight. My talent at work is my one redeeming quality.
Which is why I know I can’t fuck it up.