I make it to the hotel at an easy pace. I’m not rushing, I’m not buzzing with anxiety in anticipation to see him. For the first time in a long time, my body just feels…ready. To walk away from my past. To close a chapter so I can finally move on.
As soon as I reach Everett’s room, searching the marked numbers based on his instructions, I knock on the door. Even my knuckles rap with a calm hollow thump.
“Hey,” Everett calls as soon as he sees me across the threshold.
“Hi.”
He opens the door wider to let me in, and I walk past him, getting a hefty whiff of him. He smells clean, like a lavender scent, mixed with something spicy. Like aftershave. I find that his room isn’t just a simple accommodation with a single king-size bed and the usual amenities, but more of a penthouse suite with a formal living room.
“You have all this space to yourself?”
He smirks. “Gets a little lonely sometimes.” He’s the embodiment of a lazy Sunday afternoon with his low hanging sweatpants and undershirt. There’s a slight dampness to his hair, evidence that he either just got out of the shower or he’d done some strenuous activity. Though with his appealing eau de Everett fragrance wafting around him, it’s likely the former.
I perch myself on the sofa, the soles of my white canvas shoes firmly set on the carpeted floor, and Everett sits across from me.
“Is everything okay?”
I nod, picking at one of the purposely slashed tears on my faded jeans. “I know I sounded really vague over the phone, but I needed to talk to you in person. I just felt like you deserved an…explanation? Or at the very least, more than just a cold shoulder after last week.”
He nods too. “Okay.”
“I think you’ve been giving me some space to think things over, and I really appreciate that,” I continue. “It’s given me time to think about what I want to say to you.”
He stays quiet, though if he spoke, I feel the words,“Tell me everything,”would match the forbearing way he looks at me.
“What happened between us was…a little impulsive, I think.”
His brow lifts and his forehead wrinkles. “Impulsive?”
“I feel like maybe we should’ve talked about things before we let it get that far.”
“Yeah, I agree, but I don’t regret it.”
A small smile slips, and I don’t know what it means. If I’m agreeing with him or if it’s something more reassuring and appreciative. “So, I guess, I’m here to talk.”
“Okay,” he says again. His patience doesn’t waver. And if it does, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it. He’s sitting across from me, his posture completely open with his knees angled in my direction and his shoulders leaned forward to give me his full attention.
“I loved you,” I say, my words spoken fondly. “I loved you with my entire heart. And when I was sixteen, I really thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. When you were planning for college and everything, I really wasn’t scared because I knew we would figure things out, no matter how far away you’d be.
“I didn’t expect things to turn out the way they did, and it happened really fast. Looking back, I think it was a lot to take on at such a young age.”
We sit there, letting my words hang around us. They aren’t big or scary, all the things we’ve been holding back for so many years. Instead, they’re just there, waiting for us to sift through.
“I thought you’d come back,” I add. “At some point, I thought you’d call me or something.”
“I wanted to,” he says, his voice sounding loud after his resigned stretch of silence. “Things went to shit with my parents, and after it settled, I wanted to come to you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shakes his head in a motion of uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he says, his gaze on his hands bracing his knees. “I know I was scared, but I couldn’t get over it. I just felt like I’d let you down so badly, and I didn’t know how to make things right. That whole pregnancy scare…I handled it so horribly. And when you told me to leave…you said you thought things would be better if we broke up, and I didn’t know how to argue that after everything I did.”
“I know,” I say, the first of my tears starting to gather. “And a part of me thought you’d fight for me. I know what I told you, but I thought you would try to convince me to…change my mind.”
“Would you have?”
Now it’s my turn to be uncertain. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should’ve come back sooner,” he says, his voice sounding more urgent now. “Maybe I should’ve at least called or something, but…” He stops talking, looking at me with so much sadness. “I didn’t know how.”
