“Because I would have betrayed them.” I turned to face her fully. “Because I almost slept with you before you even met them. Because I made you feel like you were something to be ashamed of, and you’re not. You’re…” I stopped myself before I said too much.
“I’m what?” Her voice was softer now.
I looked at her, really looked at her, and told the truth. “You’re incredible. And I ruined it. And I’m sorry.”
The silence that followed felt different. Less accusatory. More... something I didn’t dare name.
“I was angry,” she said finally. “I’m still angry. But...” She looked at me. “I also understand. Kind of. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah.”
“That night at the bar...” She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I needed someone to see me, not as the secret daughter or the complication or the affair baby. Just asme.”
“I did see you.” I couldn’t help it. The words came out before I could stop them. “Idosee you.”
“I know.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Which is why this is so hard.”
We sat there for a moment, the truth hanging between us.
“I have an idea,” she said finally. “It’s probably stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“We pretend it didn’t happen. The bar, the parking lot, all of it. We start over. Fresh.” She looked at me. “You’re their family, I’m their family. We’re going to be around each other. So we figure out how to be... civil. Maybe even friends eventually.”
“Pretend it didn’t happen?”
“Can you do that?”
No, I thought. I’ll never forget it. Never forget the way you felt in my arms, the sounds you made, the connection that felt more real than anything I’d felt in years.
But I said, “Yes.”
“Then we have a truce. For them. For the wedding. We put whatever this was aside and we move forward. We get through the summer and then I’ll be leaving and you’ll only see me at holidays. Probably.”
She extended her hand toward me. “Truce?”
I looked at her hand, knowing this was a terrible idea. Knowing that touching her again, even just a handshake, would make everything harder.
But I took it anyway.
“Truce.”
The second our palms touched, electricity shot up my arm. The same spark from that first night at the bar. The same connection that had made me feel alive for the first time in months.
Her breath caught. She felt it too.
But we both ignored it. Let go too quickly. Looked away.
“I should go,” she said, standing. “Wedding planning meeting Monday morning. You’ll be there?”
“I’ll be there.”
She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “For what it’s worth... that night? Before everything went wrong? I saw you too.”
Then she was gone, walking back to her car, leaving me alone at the pond.
I sat there long after her taillights disappeared, staring at the water and trying to figure out how I was going to survive this.
