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But for very different reasons.
Conor’s perfect, he hasn’t done anything wrong. I’ve still got the pleasant ache down there to prove it.
He’s been nothing but kind, tender and loving towards me. He doesn’t want me to go, so why am I going?
Yesterday, following his dog it was all ‘Where am I going?’ and today it’s ‘Why am I going?’
Everything was fine until I heard my dad, that’s why.
I know it.
Hearing how upset he is, knowing he hasn’t slept a wink and him having to arrange all the last minute stuff by himself.
It all makes me feel so terrible, so selfish. Even though I know how great Conor’s been, how much he-
There it is again.
Was he really gonna tell me? Was he really gonna say it, those three magic words?
I don’t know if it would have made me stay if he did, probably would have made it all harder than all this already is.
Oh, and dear sweet Valentine! God, I love that dog already. To think I was scared of him for a moment yesterday.
Yesterday feels like a thousand years ago.
Looking up from my hands, I hear the cab driver mumbling something and I’m about to answer when I realize he’s talking to someone else.
His friend or someone on his Bluetooth.
His eyes meet mine for a second in the rearview, but they don’t register how I’m feeling. They don’t offer me any consolation.
Once I get home, I realize I don’t have any cash and ask the driver to wait while I go inside. He rolls his eyes and gives me a suspicious look, but once he sees my dad in the front doorway he eases up.
I explain this much to my dad, who makes a face and slips the guy some cash before he bundles me inside.
It’s started raining again, with what looks like snow on the way too it’s so cold.
Once inside, I expect my dad to give me the third degree, but he’s unusually quiet, only asking me if I had breakfast, which I haven’t.
I nod and pretend I have but he knows me better than that.
“C’mon,” he says, putting his arm around me and walking me to the kitchen. “We should use up all this food anyway,” he adds, opening the refrigerator and pulling out some bacon and some eggs.
He sets to work in silence and taking off my jacket I put some coffee on and sit at the table, not wanting to mention that it doesn’t look like he hasn’t packed a whole lot since yesterday.
In fact, it doesn’t look like he’s packed anything.
We’re both last minute people, but yesterday he was so determined that we’d be all set and ready to go a day ahead.
I’m not gonna give him a hard time about it, and cringe inside when I think about my closet that I’ve yet to sort out.
But I can’t stop thinking about Conor either, the pain in my gut is too much for me to even stand the thought of food right now.
“I changed things around a little,” he finally says, cracking an egg and speaking louder over it sizzling in the pan.
“Huh?” I ask, pulled back to our kitchen again, away from Conor’s couch. Away from his hands as they squeeze me in time with his tongue dancing inside me.
“The truck,” my dad explains, “I called the moving company and changed the plan. It’ll cost extra, but I’m getting them to do the packing today and move the rest of our stuff tomorrow as well. I need some sleep right now,” he exclaims, making me feel ten times worse already.
The original plan was to pack it all ourselves and even load the truck, then dad would drive up and I’d follow. We were gonna try for one trip but gave ourselves Sunday as well to make sure we had everything gone by Monday when the lease officially ended.
“Two people and a slightly bigger truck, we can just drive up tomorrow, let them do all the heavy lifting,” he adds, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me.
“You okay?” he asks me, making sure not to press the point any further. For now.
I stab a little nod and poke at my food for a while, watching dad eat heartily before I offer to clean up.
“I’d rather you talked to me,” he says sheepishly, creasing a frown and raising his eyes, making himself look like a puppy dog.
As if I need reminding.
“Talk about what?” I ask, trying to get up to clear the plates but he grabs me gently and sits me on his knee like when I was a little girl, taking all my weight which I can tell is too much for him now that I’m grown up.
“I just want you to know you can tell me stuff, Rachel. Whatever’s going on in your life? Things you think I might not understand,” he explains softly.
