28. Will
Chapter twenty-eight
Will
I grunt as I push the bar up off my chest, then shove it back onto the rack. I slide myself out from under the bar and grab my towel, wiping the sweat dripping down my neck as Matt positions himself.
It’s fair to say things have been rocky between me and Mia since our chat after the Christmas party. We’re still hanging out, but we are both quick to get frustrated, and neither of us seem to be able to give the other the benefit of the doubt. I’ve tried to have another conversation about that night (and morning) since we got home, but she just isn’t open to it. I’ve fucked it up the first time, I know that, but it’s so unlike Mia to not even be willing to have a conversation. I know what that means. She’s hurting. And fuck, I’m hurting too. And every single time I try to think about a way through, I become paralyzed, worried about whether it’s even possible to salvage this.
If she does say yes to starting a conversation about a relationship, would I run screaming?
“Mind paying attention before I crush myself to death? Only if it’s not interrupting your sad-sack moping over there,” Matt growls up at me.
“Sorry, dude.” I try to snap myself out of it, widening my stance and focusing on Matt’s lift. He’s right, I am sad-sack moping, and I know it. It’s pathetic. But fuck, having this distance between me and Mia now, after we have fucked, is one thing, but it’s another thing to feel like we can’t even talk about it.
I hover my hands over the bar as Matt pushes it back to the rack. He sits, chest heaving, and rubs his towel over his forehead.
“Going to tell me what’s going on? You’re insanely distracted again.” He looks up at me, then tosses his head back. “Don’t tell me it’s fucking Mia again.”
Fucking Mia was precisely my problem. I plop down on the bench next to him and let my head fall into my hands. Fuck anyone waiting for the bench right now. I need it more. “It’s Mia,” I say. “You can’t say anything , but we had sex.”
Matt sits back, pulling himself away to look at me. “You’re telling me, after all this time you actually slept with her?”
“Yep. And you can’t tell anyone. No one, dude, I’m serious.”
“Right. And what’s the problem? Why are you moping around?”
I sigh, rubbing my hand over my face. “Stupidly, we talked about it afterwards and I…I kinda told her I did it because I wanted to take her mind off what happened with her brother.”
Matt lets out a low groan. “Jesus H. Christ. You told the girl you’ve been pining over for ten years that you pity fucked her?” He lets out a whistle. “And now, what? She doesn’t want to talk to you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it like that, but that is what I said. And somehow it’s even worse than that. She said she understands, and we’re still talking, but it’s just not the same.”
Matt laughs. “Yeah, dude, it’s not the same. No shit.” He settles back next to me. “Well, what are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, simply. “It feels like there’s nothing more I can do, she’s just gotta come around. Or I’ve got to get over her. I’ve tried starting a conversation to explain where I went wrong a couple of times, and she’s just not interested.” I rub my face again.
Matt nods, contemplating. After a few seconds he says, “Nothing. You could do nothing . Just be her friend. Support her. Show that you’re there for her.”
I stare at him. “That’s your advice. My friend, the biggest player I know, and your fucking advice is ‘be her friend’?” I shake my head and let out a dry laugh. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last goddamn decade and look where I am.”
Matt puts his arms on his big quads and levers himself up. “Be her friend. Tell her you think she’s hot, support her. Show her you’re still there for her, and that you can be friends. She doesn’t want you to cut chunks off yourself for her. She likes you for you.” He takes a sideways look at me. “Fucked if I know why, honestly, but she does.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.”
“You don’t have to sacrifice everything you want to make her happy. She doesn’t need you to sit your way through endless fucking weaving lessons, wishing you were somewhere else just to prove you love her. It's Mia. She doesn’t need a yes man, she needs someone to be straight with her. Wait for the right time, then make your move—and make sure it’s fucking clear this time?” He shrugs. “Or, you know, try whatever your idea is. I’m sure it’s great.”
The sarcasm is practically dripping from his voice. That whole yes-man thing, he’d been at me about that before, I realize as I watch him head to the treadmills for a cool-down. When I was with Maggie, I always said yes to her. If she wanted to do something, and I could do it to make her happy, of course I’d do it. I loved her. Why wouldn’t I want to make her life better? Matt didn’t see it that way. He always thought I was losing myself. But I liked making her happy. And I like making Mia happy, too. I love making Mia happy. But is he right? Am I just cutting off bits of me, and it’s not even what she wants?
I toss and turn all night. I can’t get what Matt said out of my head. I fucking hate that he’s right. I have no other ideas. All I can do is to be the rock she needs and find a way to manage my feelings without burdening her with them. And, if I know anything about managing my own mental health, that means making sure I was looking after myself too. That’s something I didn’t do well enough when Maggie and I were together, those boring, stupid things like sleeping enough, getting exercise, and getting outside fell off because I always put her first, before my own needs.
But even if I do look after myself, can I handle a relationship with someone so far out of my league? Are things different, now that Mia is worth as much as a small country? Not that it matters when she isn’t even entertaining the idea right now.
I have to focus on myself first. Put on your own life-vest before helping others, and all that.
Unfortunately, getting outside in the dead of London winter is easier said than done. First thing in the morning, I text Matt.
Will
gym today? know we went yesterday, but I gotta work some things out in my head
Matt
How mysterious. 5:30. Don’t be late, got a date at 7.
Before I can text back and ask about his date, he messages: Don’t even ask.
I head into work early. I’ve been working mornings at a co-working space, and afternoons on-site with a client. If I go in early, I can get everything I need to do done early so I can head out in time to meet Matt. The office is empty when I arrive just after seven-thirty, coffee in hand. I fly through my emails, grateful for the distraction from my near-constant thinking about what Mia is doing, what is she thinking, whether she thinks about me when she’s alone late at night.
I run my hand over my beard while I browse my ‘potential client list’ emails. I have a full calendar until two weeks before Christmas, but after that, I haven’t committed to new clients. It’s been a busy year, work-wise, and I’ve saved enough that I’d been planning on taking some time off after Christmas, take my flying lessons, wallow about being alone while Matt’s on his big trip to Australia, read, sleep in. Give the ol’ brain a bit of a break. With everything being so up in the air with Mia, I haven’t booked the lessons or even thought about what I’d do over my break.
Maybe I shouldn’t—maybe she’d need me. I hate that I’m so in my head about her, and I hate that I feel so far away from her at the same time. I can’t leave things this awkward between us, though. Sighing, I pull out my phone.
Will
I hate that things are weird between us. curry at your place tomorrow? My shout.
Mia
I hate it too. Can’t do tomorrow, but the day after?
let’s do it.