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“Brett, you can’t be here,” I whispered, shaking my head for emphasis.
He walked up to me, grabbed my upper arms with his strong hands, and pulled me to him, wrapping his muscled arms around me. I had no choice but to breathe in his familiar scent. There was something unique about him he smelt woodsy. How many times had I laid my head on his chest while passed out drunk? Or that one time we shared a bed after his work dinner party and I woke up feeling content with his arms around me?
How did he get here though? I turned my head and spotted his car parked next to mine. Where did that car come from?
“I’m sorry,” Brett said. “I can’t lose you.”
Lose me? Did he feel the same way after all?
“You’re my best friend, Sam,” he continued, “I can’t lose you.”
My nose started to sting.
Fuck.
I was seconds away from crying again. I let myself cry that first night. But no more. With my hands against his chest I tried to push him away. He didn’t budge.
“What are you doing here, Brett? I told you I loved you and you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. Where is she? Did you both have a laugh at my expense?” When he didn’t answer, I went on. “I can’t do this, Brett. I deserve better than that.” Tears started falling down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and admitted defeat. This time when I pulled back, he let me go.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I whispered. “I was finally getting over you.” I turned and walked to the front door, opening it proved difficult. Fucking tears. Brett took the keys from my fingers and opened the door for me.
“Thank you.” I mumbled, about to close the door when he walked in after me.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll give you today, but tomorrow, we talk.”
“I’m done talking. I’m done with everything.” I put my wine bottles on the counter and took out some bread to nibble on. Placing my handbag on the couch, I walk to the bedroom and climbed under the covers with my clothes on. My tears wouldn’t stop. I’m not a pretty crier; I get red eyes, blotchy cheeks, and a snotty nose. I looked like one of the walking dead. Except I was in bed, so maybe the sleeping dead? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I tried to hide the weird noises coming from my mouth, but wasn’t successful. I felt the air stir and I knew Brett was behind me. His footsteps echoed before he slid in, pulling me to him. I tried to fight it, I really did. But with not being able to see—thanks tears. And not being able to think—due to wine, I hadn’t stood a chance. My head was on his shoulder and I curled my arm around his waist. Clutching him to me.
Leaving the café two days ago had been agony, but it was nothing compared to right then. I had a feeling this was going to be our last time together. I hoped it was, I couldn’t keep doing this. My heart broke all over again for both the loss of my best friend, and the man I had envisioned spending the rest of my life with.
Brett held me tightly with one arm around my hips, refusing to let me move an inch, and his other hand played with my hair. He knew it always made me fall asleep.
With the stress of the past few days, not to mention too much alcohol, I closed my eyes, praying he’d leave before I woke up. That way I didn’t have to deal with him and he wouldn’t see me in all my awesome glory of a hangover and my beautiful, I actually rolled my eyes, tear-puffy face.
