CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EMERSON
I roll over in my old bed when there’s a soft knock on the closed door.
“Are you up?” Suki asks softly, cracking it open.
“I’m awake,” I reassure her.
She opens it wider and steps across the threshold, carrying two cups of coffee. She hands me one as I sit with my back against the headboard. The mattress dips when she sits on the edge of it.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip of the sweet caffeine. “I missed this creamer.”
“They have stores where you’re living downtown, you know. You can buy some of your own.”
“I know,” I say, taking another drink. “But it just tastes better when you make it for me.”
She smirks. “It’s really hard to pour it into the cup, Em. And stop trying to butter me up. You already got your coffee.” Suki runs her fingers through her straight black hair. “Not that I don’t love waking up to you in my place, but what are you doing here?”
I came to Suki’s last night. She took me in, no questions asked, but it was late, so we didn’t really talk about why I was here.
I shrug. “I needed a break.”
“From babysitting the hockey star?”
“From babysitting, from living in a place that’s not really mine … I don’t know. All of it, I guess.” I playfully push her shoulder. “And I missed my best friend.”
“I miss you too.” She smiles, then bites her lower lip as she studies me. We’ve talked on the phone almost daily, but it isn’t the same as cohabitating in the same space. “Did something happen?”
“I don’t know.” I pause, unsure of where to start. Then, I launch into a description of what happened last night. The painting, the chef, the dinner. Sam’s bad mood. Our pointless fight.
“Well, he sounds like the same asshole he always was,” Suki replies.
“That’s the thing … he’s not a lot of the time. Something was off with him last night.”
“Maybe,” she hums, raising a plucked eyebrow. Her gaze is stuck on the wall beside the bed. “Or maybe he was jealous.”
“Jealous? Jealous of what?” I scoff.
Her dark eyes find mine and pin me in place. “It sounds like he didn’t appreciate the attention you were paying to the chef. What was his name … Michael?”
“Milo,” I correct. “And you’re crazy. I wasn’t paying attention to Milo. He was cooking across the room from me. Was I supposed to ignore him? I was being polite and nice. Plus, I have a boyfriend.”
“You and I both know Eliott is not a factor here.” She gives me a sharp look. Suki is aware of exactly how I feel about my relationship lately. Or don’t feel. “Well, whatever you were doing, it doesn’t sound like Sam liked it. And I’m guessing it had everything to do with your attention on another man.”
I roll my eyes. “I love you, Suki, but you’re crazy. Sam has never looked twice at me. He couldn’t care less who I pay attention to.”
“And I’m telling you, my friend … I think you’re wrong.”
“Sam likes women like my sister. All big boobs and makeup and teased hair. That’s not me. It’ll never be me.” I glance down at my simple, ordinary, oversize T-shirt. I know who I am, and I’m good with that. But I’m far from Sam’s type.
“You have boobs.” She looks longingly at my C-cups and then glances at her much smaller breasts.
“Natural boobs. They don’t sit like the fake ones.”
“I hate to break it to you, but nothing natural sits like the fake ones. That’s not a bad thing.”
“You know what I mean,” I say.
She leans forward and places a hand on my leg. “And you have never seen yourself the way everyone else does.” She pauses for emphasis. “You’re gorgeous, Em. Inside and out. I see it. All your friends see it. Sam’s not blind. I’m sure he sees it too.”
I wave her off, uncomfortable with the compliment. “It’s a miracle if Sam and I can be in the same room for five minutes without fighting.”
“That’s not fighting. That’s foreplay.”
I narrow my eyes. “You weren’t there, Suki. There was nothing sexy about his scathing words and scowling face. Trust me, it was fighting.”
She stares back defiantly, not backing down. “Mark my words, Em,” she continues. “Something is brewing between you and the hockey boy. I can feel it in my bones. And I’m never wrong about these things.”
“Well, you’re wrong about this,” I say, just as convinced. “Sam isn’t my type, and I’m definitely not his.”
“Famous last words …” She rises from my mattress and starts walking to the door. “I need to get ready for work. Are you staying all day?”
“No,” I say, slinging my legs over until I’m sitting on the side of the bed. “I’m meeting Eliott in a little bit.”
“Dun, dun, duhhhhh,” she sings ominously.
“Stop it,” I say, my anxiety rising.
“Just cut the cord, Em. Get it done. You’ve been finished with this relationship for a while now; you just didn’t realize it until recently. It’s run its course. You know it, and I know it.”
I nod. I do know it. But it’s still hard to hurt someone you care about.
She points at me as she backs out of the room. “Don’t pussy out.”
“I won’t,” I insist.
Her eyebrow arches.
“I won’t!”
“You’d better be single by this weekend. And then we’re grabbing Mads and going out!”
“Really?” I ask, seeing a silver lining in something I’ve been dreading.
It’s been forever since we’ve been out on the town together. A night with the girls sounds long overdue.
“You do your part, and I’ll do mine,” she vows.
She crosses the room and winds her pinkie finger around mine in solidarity. “Rip that Band-Aid off.”
“Okay.” I nod.
Suki knows I hate confrontation, even if it’s necessary. And we both also know that Eliott is not going to take it well.
Suki goes to her master bedroom to get ready for work and leaves thirty minutes later. I spend the morning lounging around my old space. I take extra time on my appearance, hoping if I look good, it will give me more confidence. And then I take the train to meet Eliott, dread filling my gut.
I used to be excited to see him. When did that change?
I think everything about our relationship shifted slowly, the way a turtle moves. I didn’t notice it happening at first. But somewhere along the way, my feelings started to change until they disappeared altogether. We’ve never had explosive chemistry, but I didn’t think I was missing something before. Not the way I do now.
I watch the buildings fly by outside the windows until the train pauses at my stop. I rise and exit the car, my footsteps heavy like concrete weights as apprehension consumes me.
I walk into the coffee shop that’s close to Eliott’s apartment a few minutes later. He studies here a lot, and he’s already arrived when I scan the place. Even if I didn’t know that he was a regular customer, I would be able to tell by the way the staff is talking to him as he stands up front. It’s like they’re old friends.
I pause to watch him for a second, wondering if I’m doing the right thing as doubt crowds into my mind. Familiarity is comfortable. Ending a long-term relationship while not knowing what is next … well, let’s just say the unknown is scary. I tilt my head when I see the barista reach across the counter to remove a piece of lint from his shirt. She blushes when he thanks her. Her interest is obvious with her open smile and the gleam in her eyes. And I don’t feel one ounce of jealousy. Not one. My first thought is that he’ll be free to pursue her when I step out of the way. That isn’t a normal response to a girlfriend watching her boyfriend get hit on by another woman. My resolve grows as I approach them. It’s time.
“Hi,” I say as I step into their sphere.
The barista looks away and starts steaming milk.
“Hey,” Eliott says, giving me a one-armed side hug.
There’s no passion. No kissing. There was never a time when we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves, not even in the beginning.
I feel nothing when he touches me. Not even a spark.
“I ordered you a caramel macchiato,” he says.
“Okay,” I reply instead of telling him that hasn’t been my favorite in a while. I’m picking my battles right now.
Once our drinks are ready, we head over to the table. I take a seat and sip on my coffee as Eliott launches into a description of his latest studies. He’s consumed with medicine twenty-four/seven, which is all he talks about these days. He’s oblivious to the tension in my shoulders and the forced smile on my face.
“Eliott,” I say, finally interrupting him.
He stops talking to look at me, maybe for the first time since I walked into the café. And in that moment, I realize this is exactly what is wrong with our relationship. I don’t feel seen by my boyfriend. Maybe I never really was. He’s always been sweet and supportive of me and my art. He’s always been a gentleman when he takes me out. But I don’t think he gets me, not the person I am at the core.
“I think we should break up.” Rip the Band-Aid off.
“What?” His brow furrows. He looks shocked, like I’ve taken him completely off guard.
I shake my head as my eyes fall to my hands where they surround my mug. “I don’t want to hurt you, Eliott, but I realized something when you mentioned marriage. I don’t want to get married. I’m not even close to that place. And it made me take a good, long look at our relationship.”
“And what did you see?” he asks.
He glances out the window at the people hurrying along the sidewalk with his brow still furrowed and a frown on his face. He focuses on a mom pushing a stroller.
I reach across the table and land on his forearm. His eyes shift to where I’m touching him. “We’ve had so many good times together. So many good years. But I’m just not feeling it anymore.”
“You’re not feeling it?” The anger starts to stir in his words. “So, let me get this straight. You want to break up. Just like that, out of the blue.” He snaps his fingers. “No conversation. No chance to fix whatever it is that’s wrong. Why is that, Emerson? What has changed? Do you not want to get married at all, or do you not want to get married to me ?”
Our gazes connect, and I can’t hide the guilt in mine. Or the truth.
He stiffens, moving his arm away from my touch and dropping it at his side as he realizes that it’s him I’m uncertain about and not marriage in general. “Three wasted years …”
“Don’t look at it like that,” I plead with him. “We’ve had so many good times.”
“How am I supposed to look at it?”
His face is turning red with anger. Eliott rarely gets mad. He’s never emotional. He’s steadfast and controlled. He will make a great doctor and a wonderful husband—for someone else.
“You’re supposed to remember all the fun we had. What we were to each other at one time,” I say, my tone and expression soft.
“Forgive me if I’m not there yet. You’re talking about us in past tense. And I’ve had about a minute to absorb what you’re saying,” he growls. “This isn’t what I want. This is what you want.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” He rises from his seat, his coffee forgotten. He starts pulling his jacket on.
“I am. Please don’t leave yet.”
“You want me to stay?” he spits out. “For what? So you can tell me we’re better off as friends? Well, forgive me if I don’t want to be friends with you. I wanted to marry you, Emerson. I still do. And now, we’re going from that … to this ?”
He’s hurt, and I wish I could do this without causing him pain. But we’re not on the same page. And we haven’t been for a while now. At some point, he’ll see this was the best thing for both of us. But that point will obviously not be now.
“Please, Eliott. Let’s talk about this some more.”
He pauses, glancing away with an empty stare. “I don’t think there’s anything else to say, Emerson.” His eyes find my face, and he traces every inch of it like he’s trying to memorize the way I look. “I’ve felt you pulling away for a while. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. And then you took that ridiculous job …” He sighs. “I wish you the best, Emerson. But I don’t want to be friends. I can’t.”
“I hope that changes with time. I really care about you, Eliott.”
He scoffs while he studies me again, and then he walks away. I watch his back disappear through the door. I’m not sure how long I sit here, just staring at the empty sidewalk that he vanishes down.
“Do you want that in a to-go cup?” a soft voice asks from beside the table.
I glance up at the barista, the same one who was talking to Eliott earlier. She has a sympathetic expression on her face, making me think she’s just the type of girl that he should be with.
“Sure. Thanks.”
She takes my mug and transfers the coffee into a Styrofoam cup, handing it to me when she’s done. I rise and leave the shop, knowing I won’t be back. The only reason I ever came to this part of the city was to see him.
My heart is hurting. If someone were to ask me right now if it’s easier to be the one breaking things off or the one being broken up with … I think I’d pick the latter. Because I hate hurting people. Especially people I care about. But I also know how practical Eliott is, and I don’t think he’ll be down for long. He’ll put one foot in front of the other and focus on medical school. It’s been his priority the entire time we dated anyway, and that won’t change. And he’ll find someone who fits his life better than I do. He’ll be happy. Thinking about that makes me feel better.
As I walk down the sidewalk toward the train, I know I did the right thing. Because the heaviness that was weighing me down on the way in is no longer there. I feel sad for things lost, but light and free with thoughts of things to come. And the relief only grows as the train takes me farther away from my past and toward my future, whatever that might hold. There’s something magical about not knowing where I’m headed, and I try to grasp on to that with both hands.
I open my screen and dial Suki’s number. It rings once, twice …
“Hello?” she answers breathlessly.
“Where are we going on Friday night?” I ask.
I sense her smile through the phone.
It feels like the world might just be mine for the taking for the first time in a while.