Chapter 15
Ella
My hands are shaking, my heart rate is through the roof and pounding in my ears, heat is rushing to my face as my nerves build. This isn’t how I planned to tell him, but his sudden love confession threw me off and I panicked.
Jesse’s baby-blue eyes turn grayish as he stares at me. “Engagement? Like diamond ring, one knee, spend forever with me, engaged?”
The eye contact is hard to keep, but I push through it, nodding. “The whole nine yards, yeah.”
His voice is low, laced with defeat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I close my eyes and sigh. “Things between us were so good, I didn’t want to mess it up.”
“Why would it mess something up?”
“Because I didn’t want it to change your opinion of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was with him for three years. We talked about it all—the wedding, the kids, the house, the dogs, the fun stuff. Then, three months after he proposed, I called it off. Wrecked my relationship with his family and my own. Strained the relationships between me and our friends. Everything went to hell. So here I am. I left. I couldn’t take it anymore. ”
Jesse looks down at his hands, taking a hard swallow before meeting my eyes. “What about that makes you think I’d judge you?”
“Because it screams flight risk.” I gesture, my hands hitting my sides.
“So? You still should’ve just told me.”
“I know. It’s just … this is what I was afraid of. You’re mad at me now. See?” I point out his disapproval.
“I’m not mad that you were engaged, Ella. I’m mad you waited this long to tell me.”
“But, now you know,” I say with hope.
He stares at me for a moment, then looks away, shaking his head. “Why do you do this, baby? Why?”
“This? What’s this?”
His tone sharpens. “You and these secrets, this is the third one.”
“Third?!” I shoot back, frustration making my chest rise.
“Yeah, it took you days to tell me the thing with Addison, which you then said you weren’t even going to tell me, and don’t act like you forgot about the college thing too.”
I blink, stunned. My heart thuds in my chest, and I feel the air shift between us.
“Jesse …” My voice drops to a whisper, pleading. “We talked about that. I apologized, you apologized … I thought we moved on from that.”
“Yeah, and yet nothing’s changed. How am I supposed to build trust with you if this is your MO?!” He shakes his head and walks around the living room.
“Huh, wow.” I get my things and make my way toward the door. Unable to handle his accusations, my body is shaking with anger.
“I’m serious, Ella. Answer me that,” he says, following me.
“No,” I argue.
“This solves nothing. You can’t just walk away from your problems.” His voice is tight; I can practically hear him biting his tongue, but I don’t care.
“It’s better than staying here and dwelling on the past!”
“So you’re just gonna walk away again?” he asks, and my blood boils more.
“I guess so! It is my MO right?!” I open the door. “Don’t choke on the lasagna,” I snap and shut the door behind me. I don’t slam it—I’m not that immature—but I am pretty pissed off.
As I drive home, the anger fades and tears blur my vision.
It feels like déjà vu, a sickening reminder of how it felt when we broke up years ago.
My stomach twists at the thought. I wish I was one for hard conversations, but I’m just not.
And Jesse knows that. If there’s anything that I wish would’ve changed about me, it would be that.
Like I said, it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell him, I just hadn’t felt like there was a reason to yet. I was waiting for a better time.
If we can’t work through this, if he can’t trust me again, I don’t know what I’ll do. But I do know one thing, I’m not leaving this time. I’m here to stay. I’m not ready to say I love him yet, but I’m getting there. Slowly. Carefully. I’m just scared to jump back in too fast and lose myself again.
Eight months ago
“Are you being serious right now?” my mom asks, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in disbelief. My dad stands behind her, hands on his hips, his face a mix of curiosity and judgment.
“Yeah.” I nod, trying to sound firm, but my voice wavers. I wait for them to say something, anything to reassure me that I did the right thing. I know I did. But right now, I just need someone to remind me before the urge to throw up wins.
“Why would you do that?” Mom presses, her voice sharp. “Did he do something?”
“No, it’s just … he’s not the one.” I shake my head. I wish he did do something—it would give me a better reason—but he didn’t. Tim’s a good guy, he’s just not mine.
Her brows raise, her face brushed with confusion. “He’s so good to you. How can you even say that?”
“It’s not about how it looks on the outside,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “It’s about how I feel. And I don’t feel it with him. I don’t think I ever truly have.”
“Well, geez, you could’ve figured that out before you said yes,” she shoots back.
“But I didn’t,” I snap, louder than I intended. “He had that whole engagement planned, thirty people watching us! What was I supposed to do? Embarrass him in front of them all?”
“You could’ve found a time to tell him in the last three months!” she fires back, eyes blazing. “Three whole months, and you couldn’t find the time to pull him aside and be honest with him?”
My jaw clenches. “It’s not the easiest, most fun conversation to have, Mom! Are you really going to be mad at me for this? Why would you want me to marry someone I’m not in love with?”
“We don’t, but you could’ve had the decency to tell him the moment you started to have doubts. Now he’s scarred for life.”
“How do you think I feel, Mom?” My voice cracks, and I can feel the tears threatening to spill over. “You think I wanted to do this? To hurt him? Do you think this is fun for me?”
“Well, you did it,” she says, folding her arms tighter across her chest.
“Mom, I’m an adult!” I yell, throwing my hands up. “I’m twenty-eight years old, and you’re treating me like I’m fifteen!”
“Because this is how a child would go about it.” Her eyes are cold.
I have nothing else to say; this conversation is going nowhere.
I feel my chest ache. The ache that comes when you want to defend yourself but don’t have the strength.
I blink away the tears, jaw tight, and glance at my dad, hoping for something from him.
Some kind of lifeline. But he just stands there, shaking his head with a look that says he agrees with her.
End of flashback
I’ve never felt so small or invisible. And that was just the beginning. The flood of opinions from family and friends came crashing in—loud, relentless, and anything but helpful.
I blink hard, trying to push the brimming tears away, but they come anyway. There’s a part of me that wishes I’d handled things differently, that I’d been brave enough to tell him sooner. But at least it’s out now. At least it didn’t come years down the road after we were married.
I think back to the fight with Jesse that’s still fresh in my memory.
How it all played out. While I’m relieved it’s finally out there, I wish I would’ve told him sooner.
I hate that I made him mad, absolutely hate it.
I care about him so much. The last thing I want is to lose him over this.
I haven’t been this happy in a long time.
Although I’m not ready to say I love him yet, I can feel it growing back, slow and steady.
As silly as it sounds, it scares me. It scares me to let these walls down and let someone in who broke me before.
I’m sure it’s scary for him too. We both hurt each other, after all.
I know I have to trust that if things are meant to be, they won’t fall apart. That they’ll fall into place.