Fai
Icouldn’t believe I had almost kissed Sarah. Okay… I could believe it. I had been wanting to kiss her since the day I had met her. The want never went away. It only grew in the last sixteen years, blossoming into an insatiable need to feel her lips on mine, her hands on me.
What I couldn't believe was that I had almost let myself do it.
I was a lot of things. I knew my faults better than most. I was a drunk, a screw up, emotionally distant, terrified of commitment… but I wasn’t a cheater. I wouldn’t be a part of any relationship where cheating was involved, whether it was on my part or the part of my partner.
It was one of the few lines I had always held. And I had nearly crossed it because I had been too lost in her to remember it existed.
I had an addictive personality. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. I was heading towards decade two of alcoholism. It wasn’t just alcohol I was addicted to. It wasn’t even the first thing I knew I was addicted to.
Sarah was.
Being around her had always been intoxicating in a way I had never been able to replicate or replace. I had lost myself in her more times than I could count. She could make me do anything, cross any line, any boundary, by simply asking. She was my first addiction, my longest addiction, and the one I would never recover from. She could tell me to jump off a bridge and I would sprint to the edge. She could tell me to pick up a drink and down it without a second worry, and I would without question. She was dangerous to me. To my sobriety. To everything I had spent seven months building.
It was something I had always known, but I had hoped it had lessened since the divorce. Last night while we stood side by side, breathing in each other's air, sharing each other's space, my devotion to her took over. I didn’t care about her boyfriend. I didn’t care about my sobriety. I cared about closing that distance between us once and for all.
I didn’t know how I became self aware enough for just a moment to pull away, but I thanked God I did. Kissing her, crossing that line, would put me at risk… my sobriety at risk. For once in my life, I was putting myself first. It was hard, it was painful, but I had done it.
It was also why I was out of the house before the sun was up, with a scrawled note explaining I went into town, left on the kitchen counter.
I needed to refocus before I could face Sarah again. I needed to properly apologize for my behavior, for almost kissing her, for bringing her with me in the first place. But first I needed to feel remorse for my actions. Real remorse…
Not regret.
Regret that I hadn’t taken the leap. That I hadn’t closed the breath of space between us and kissed her with my entire heart and soul.
The drive to town was peaceful. With the car windows down, the cool air washed through the cabin, settling on my skin like a calm embrace. The sun was just peeking over the mountains when I pulled onto the main street.
It was barely seven in the morning, but the small town of Willow Creek, Montana, was already alive. Shop owners swept their storefronts, and children with heavy backpacks meandered toward the school—everyone seemed to be bracing for the new day.
I pulled in front of the coffee shop Gabriel had mentioned, relieved to see it was already open. Putting the car in park, I jumped out of the driver’s seat, taking in a breath of fresh air. I would always live in the city, but the escape to the mountains had to be good for the soul. And probably my lungs, for getting out of the air pollution.
When I stepped inside, I was surprised to find nearly every table occupied. There was a young couple huddled in one corner, a man in a flannel shirt and an honest-to-god cowboy hat in another, and an older woman tucked into a third. I made my way to the register, waiting for the lone barista to finish her current creation.
Because of my years of struggle with alcohol, bars had never been a place for me to unwind. Coffee shops, however, were my sanctuary—my bread and butter. I had spent hours in them during college and again when I launched my business. Even now, I still found myself wandering down the street from my office to work away the afternoon in the scent of roasted beans.
The barista called out a name, set a steaming cup on the counter, and turned to me. She was young, blonde, and wearing a smile that reached from ear to ear. “Ooh, a new face! What can I get for you, handsome?”
I gave a light laugh. She was at least twenty years my junior, but I appreciated the compliment nonetheless. I wasn’t evendressed well, still clad in yesterday’s jeans and black hoodie with a jean jacket over the top to stave off the chill of the morning air.
“A medium latte… and a macchiato with oatmilk. Do you have oatmilk?” I asked, realizing that a small town may not be the best place to cater to Sarah’s lactose intolerance.
The barista—I squinted at her name tag,Briar—smiled and nodded, pulling a cup from the stack. “We have all the bells and whistles here. Anything else?”
I shook my head and pulled out a twenty from my wallet as she rang me up and wandered off to make my order. I was hoping the drink for Sarah could serve as a peace offering.
Did a macchiato properly communicate ‘sorry I almost kissed you after treating you like crap in our marriage, to the point you divorced me and moved on and are now dating some douche canoe’?
Probably not.
It was hard to accept that Sarah had truly moved on. When we divorced, I knew it was inevitable. She was Sarah… all she had to do was walk out the door and a line would form, a dozen people waiting for her to take her pick. Knowing it would happen was one thing; seeing it was another.
I took a seat near the window and watched the world go by on the street outside. My mind drifted back through the years I’d shared with her. A ghost of a smile touched my face as I thought back to the day I proposed... or, well,kindaproposed.
Twelve Years Ago
“Will you hurry up?” Sarah called over her shoulder, trying to outrun the rain.
