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“Sarah, I don’t have those feelings anymore,” I say.
She laughs and takes a step toward me, like what I said was completely ridiculous. She reaches for me, but I shake my head and take another step back. “Don’t,” I warn. “You call it rushing into the boring stuff, but that’s the thing. If you’re with the right person, none of that is boring. It’s the most exciting fucking thing you can ever imagine. More exciting than a thousand fans screaming your name or signing a multi-million dollar contract. Some part of me wanted to believe it could be like that with us, but it wasn’t. I can see that now.”
Her expression falls, but then she smiles again. She’s assuming this is all just a prologue to the part where I take her back. “What’s wrong with you? Is there some other girl or something?” Sarah was always the confident type. She didn’t mingle well with other people at times because she could be too opinionated or too bold for some. Seeing her turn that boldness on me like a weapon stirs up old memories of the bad times between us–of moments when she strained my relationship with the team because she pushed buttons or when she got jealous and tried to accuse me of things that weren’t true.
“Yeah,” I say. “There’s another girl.” I frown, because I can feel the truth in my words even before I say them. “And she’s the type of girl who makes the boring stuff seem like it wouldn’t be so boring. The kind of girl you change your life for.” True or not, my own words scare the shit out of me. Is that really how I feel? What the hell am I supposed to do with that, if it is? Tell Andi the truth and spook her all the way back to Manhattan?
Sarah sticks out her jaw, folding her arms like she’s disgusted that I’ve moved on. “So none of what we went through matters? You already replaced me?”
I realize she really thought this was going to work. She believed it would be like other times we’d taken breaks from each other. All those other times, I’d spent our time apart convincing myself I screwed up and would be lucky if she gave me another chance. I’d let her jump back into my arms and apologized for whatever I’d done wrong while she let me shoulder all the blame.
She must have come here completely convinced this would work out the way it always had.
“It’s good to see you,” I say. “But I am actually in the middle of something, so I need to get headed back.”
“That’s all? I came all this way to see you and you’re just going to toss me away like I’m nothing?”
There are several things I really want to say, but I know I’ll feel better if I don’t lower myself to her level here. “I think we can both admit our relationship lasted longer than it should’ve. Getting back together wouldn’t be good for either of us. And like I said, I’m with somebody else, now.”
She lowers her eyes and laughs a little. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Okay. Yeah. Good for you, Jesse.” She looks up and I’m surprised to see she has already regained her composure. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Are you still planning to stay for the holidays?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.”
“Sorry it turned out this way.”
She laughs softly. “I don’t think you are. She must be something special. You look good, Jesse. Really good.”
I nod. There’s a heavy sense of finality in the moment. Instead of sadness, the realization makes me feel light and relieved, like the sudden end of oppressive background noise. I press my lips together in a smile, wave, and leave her there in the park.
In the quiet minutes I spend walking back toward the bed and breakfast, I’m surprised when sadness or regret doesn’t come bubbling from the depths in my mind.
I spot my truck after a few minutes parked on the side of Main Street. I follow the sound of a small crowd and holiday music to the plaza, where the big Christmas tree is set up. Kids are helping Caroline put up decorations and Andi is watching with her parents. They’re talking about something and Andi notices me first, her smile faltering as she reads the stormy expression on my face.
I approach them, nodding to Andi with my hands in my jacket pockets. "Hey," I say, trying to mask the mix of emotions churning inside me. "Sorry about that.”
Andi's parents greet me politely, but there's an unspoken question in Andi's eyes. She senses something's off. "Everything okay?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. “You didn’t say where you were going…”
I hesitate, not wanting to lie but also reluctant to unload everything right here. "Yeah. Just something from my past I had to deal with.”
Andi looks at me, her expression a mix of confusion and worry. "You mean Sarah?"
I nod, noting the flicker of something like disappointment in her eyes. "Yeah. She texted me out of the blue. Wanted to talk. I told her it's over, for good."
There's a pause, heavy with things unsaid. Andi's parents, sensing the tension, make an excuse to give us some space. We watch them go and then the silence stretches between us for a minute or two.
"She's here? In Frosty Harbor?" Andi's voice is calm, but there's an edge to it I can't quite read.
"She came with her family for the holidays. I didn't know she'd be here. But I told her it was over.”
“I thought that was already clear?” Andi is speaking calmly, but there’s a note of hurt in her eyes that is breaking my fucking heart.
“It was,” I say. “I thought it was, at least. She… I guess she came here hoping to start things back up. But I told her there was no chance.”
“Right,” Andi says, her smile not touching her eyes. “No chance because you’re not ready for commitment, right?”
I hesitate. I know what I should say here. I should tell her the reason I told Sarah it was over wasn’t just because I felt none of the old emotions when I saw her. The biggest reason is because I’ve already started giving my heart to someone else. To Andi. But I can’t bring myself to admit that. It brings me back to when I opened up to Sarah and she vanished on me the very next morning. Andi already knows I’ve taken the step of admitting we’re together to people. Can’t that be enough for now? There are certain truths too dangerous to utter. “Something like that,” I say. I try to reach for Andi’s hand as a gesture of peace–a gesture to see if we’re still okay.
