19. Kendall
Kendall
The thing I’ve discovered about lying is that it gets easier and easier the more you do it.
The first lie you tell someone you love, the kind of lie you can’t come back from, is the hardest. The other ones you tell to maintain the first, well, those are just a necessary means to an end.
They seem to roll off your tongue effortlessly.
So, when I tell Kai I had the abortion but that I need space from him for a while, it nearly breaks me.
In the five years we’ve been together, I have never lied to him, not about something this big or important.
Sure, I’ve told small white lies over the years like any normal person.
But I know this level of deceit is something we won’t and can’t recover from.
That on the outside it appears purely malicious.
But to me it feels like protection. Compassion. Mercy.
Because I’m quite certain neither one of us are ready to have a child.
Neither of us are prepared to completely blow up our lives.
At least he can still have his. I try to rationalize it as steadfast devotion to helping him accomplish his dream.
And at the end of the day, I have to be able to live with myself, put my head on a pillow, and make peace with my decisions.
So, if I have to wrap up spineless betrayal in a pretty bow and call it a gift, then so be it.
He sits on my couch and he looks utterly devastated, worry and pain etched across his face.
“But this is temporary, right—just a short-term break?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face, digging for the truth. I stand in the doorway of the living room, barely able to look at him.
“Yes, of course,” I lie. “I just need time to sort some things out, process everything. This has been really hard on me. I’m exhausted from all of it.” I hug myself as my bottom lip starts to tremble uncontrollably.
“Okay, Ken, if that’s what you want and what you need right now, I can give you space.
” He swallows and I know there is a but coming.
“But you know how much I love you, right?” His gaze collides with mine, holding my heart hostage.
“I can’t picture my life without you and I don’t want to.
I fully intend on marrying you someday.”
He had said this a few times before, but this time it feels different, more of a promise than an idea.
We’ve discussed it a little over the past year.
We know we want to spend the rest of our lives together but decided it would be best to wait until Kai’s an established player in the league and I’ve graduated from law school.
I considered us the lucky ones, one of those rare couples that have been together since high school.
But those conversations feel so far away now, like our luck has finally run out.
I smile and force a mirthless laugh because otherwise, I’ll cry and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.
I’ll break down and tell him the truth, that he is the single most important person in the world to me aside from this baby I’m carrying.
That the last thing I want from him is space.
That I need him the same way I need oxygen.
That he is and always has been my person.
That I can’t picture my life without him either but now I have to and every word he says to me about our future is like another dagger to my heart.
He rises from the couch, closes the distance between us, and embraces me. His warmth and his scent invade my senses and I immediately feel safe and at peace in his arms.
How could I let my heart go?
How could I do this without him?
How? How? How?
Hot tears start streaming down my face knowing this is the last time I’ll see him. I try brushing them away while he kisses my hair and squeezes me tighter.
“It’s okay, Ken. It will be okay. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m not going anywhere,” he finally says.
He isn’t but I am. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m leaving in two weeks to stay with my aunt in North Carolina at least until the baby is born.
If I stay here, if Kai and I are in the same state, there will be nothing preventing me from trying to make things work with him.
I don’t even know if the 700 miles between us will be enough to keep me away from him.
But I have to try.