Chapter 24
My mind is racing. Littered with scenes from my afternoon with Ro, as I Uber home on autopilot. As soon as our sex fog lifted, I knew I’d made a mistake. Not the sex necessarily. Being with Ro had felt so right in the moment. It was everything that came after that left me racing for the door.
The way I’d nuzzled into the nook under his arm like I could belong there.
The way my body fit so perfectly against his, like maybe I already did.
The comfort I took, listening to the steady beating of his heart, how it had lulled me back to sleep.
The peace I’d felt hours later when I woke in his arms.
But that peace had been short-lived.
I’d woken to the sound of his breathing—his chest rising and falling under my cheek—and I hadn’t moved. I hadn’t wanted to. Instead, I listened. I listened to his fucking breathing.
And then, lying there with him, our naked bodies tangled under a gauzy blanket, smiling at the sound of this man’s lungs exchanging vital gases, I’d let my heavy eyelids close again. I’d let myself want to stay.
So I knew I had to go. Instead of memorizing one more beat of his heart or waiting for one more exhale. Instead of letting him wake to find me naked and happy and powerless against this thing I’ve seen play out too many times for too many women, I left.
Because I’m not ready to start the clock on when he’ll pull back the mask to unleash whatever fresh hell men inevitably subject their partners to after days, months, years. I’m not ready to see the inevitable truth of him.
Right now, I still believe in Ro. So, just this once, I don’t want to know how the scary story ends.
4:48pm
Ro: You left?
Me: Had to help Zola w/ some baby stuff. Didn’t want to wake you!
My fingers hover over the keyboard after deleting my fifth attempt at a follow-up text.
I’d meant for the lie to sound vague enough to be an easy out.
To release him from having to say all the right things to prove he’s not like other guys.
Ro doesn’t need to promise me the world.
He doesn’t need to promise anything at all.
But standing in my driveway, staring into the phone screen so hard my eyes actually water, I quietly allow myself to admit that maybe that’s exactly what a not-so-small part of me is hoping he’ll do.
I don’t need the three dots appearing and disappearing from our exchange to mean everything, but maybe they can mean something.
Ro: No worries.
Or maybe not.