Chapter 14 #2
I set my coffee down. "He told me I mattered."
"I'm sure he believes that. But what matters is what he does, not what he says." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "And right now? His actions aren't matching his words."
"I know." Did I? Did I, really?
We sat in silence for a little while before my phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up and saw Gavin’s name, and then held it out so we could both read the message.
Gavin: I know you said not today. But I needed you to know I haven't stopped thinking about you. About us. I'm going to figure out how to prove it. I promise.
Bridget's eyes went wide. "Is he serious right now?"
I stared at the message. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
"What are you going to do?" Bridget asked.
I set the phone down. Face up this time, watching the screen. It buzzed again.
Gavin: Will you meet me for breakfast on Saturday morning? I'd really like to see you.
Saturday morning. The same day as his lunch with Rebecca.
"What the hell?" Bridget leaned forward to read it. "Saturday? The day of the lunch?"
"Yeah."
"What is he doing?"
"I don't know." I read both messages again. The promise to prove it. The breakfast invite for the same day he was having lunch with his ex.
"Maybe he wants to officially break things off before the lunch," Bridget said slowly. "You know. Clear the deck. Make sure there's no confusion."
My stomach twisted. "You think?"
"I don't know. No. I don’t. That feels stupid, and even he isn’t that stupid. Maybe..." she stopped.
"What?"
“Maybe he's hedging his bets. Seeing you in the morning, seeing Rebecca at lunch. Keeping both options open.”
“That's—” I couldn't finish. Because it didn't sound impossible. Not after everything. “No. I don’t think so.”
She grimaced. “Wow. Okay. You’re right—that was a harsh way of looking at it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just a little.”
Bridget bumped her shoulder lightly against mine. “Fine. I suck at this. But only because he’s being so effing weird and confusing.” She added quickly, “Maybe he really does just want to see you and explain.”
I looked at the messages again. I'm going to figure out how to prove it. Followed by I'd really like to see you.
Part of me wanted to text back. To say yes. To hear whatever explanation he had. The other part—the part that had spent yesterday knowing he was at that recital, that Bridget had seen everything, that my experiences with Ryan told me men can be assholes—that part of me knew better.
"I don't know what to say," I said quietly. "I feel so ridiculous and caught up on this guy that I can’t even say is caught up on me."
"What if he is, though? What if he has a good reason?" Bridget said gently.
"Then he can explain it. In the message. Instead of being vague and expecting me to just show up." I pulled my knees up to my chest. "I'm tired, Bridge. I'm so tired of trying to figure out what he's thinking. What he wants. I told him to prove it and he... he's having lunch with his ex."
"I know."
I stared at my phone for another long moment. Then I set it to silent and turned it face down on the table.
"Not answering?" Bridget asked.
"Not today."
"Good. Make him sweat."
But even as I said it, part of me wanted to answer. Wanted to hear his explanation. Wanted him to tell me Bridget had it all wrong.
The other part—the part that had spent ten years learning this lesson—knew better.
"You know what the worst part is?" I finally said, almost inaudibly.
"What?"
"I actually believed him. The other day, when he said I mattered. When he invited me to the recital. I actually thought maybe he was finally getting it." I laughed, but it came out bitter. "Two days later and he's right back where he started."
"We don’t know that. Maybe it's not what it looks like."
"You were there. You saw it."
"I know. I just—" she stopped. "Listen. There are always multiple sides to a story. I wanted you to hear what I heard because I couldn't not tell you. But you should also hear his side when you're ready to." She blew out a breath and leaned back. "I hate this for you."
"Me too."
My phone kept lighting up silently against the wood of the table. More texts from Gavin. I didn't look at them.
"What are you going to do?" Bridget asked.
I thought about it. Really thought about it.
"I'm going to go to work tomorrow. Focus on the shop. In my life. On the things I can control." I looked at her. "And I'm going to let him figure out what he wants. Because I don’t have time in this life to sit around and wait."
"And if he shows up? Tries to explain?"
"Then I'll listen." I picked up my cold coffee. "But I'm not making this easy for him. Not anymore."
"Okay. I’m here for you. Whatever you decide. Whatever you need."
We spent the rest of the morning on my couch, watching bad TV and working our way through way too many bagels. Spending time with my oldest friend felt like the only thing that made sense right now. It was safe. And more importantly, it was exactly what I needed in that moment.
But underneath it all, I still felt the weight of what I'd lost. Not just Gavin. But the possibility of what we could've been if he had just let me in.