Mom had her subtleties.
I sip my beer, trying not to grind my teeth at the silence. This must be the frustration people often deal with around me when I opt for stoic nods rather than speaking.
“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” I prompt when the quiet stretches.
Monica starts, then blushes up at me, the red tinge spreading in an even wave over her smooth skin. When Juliet blushes, the flush is borderline splotchy and pairs with her hair to make it look like she’s reached peak boiling temperature.
Normally, it happens when she’s growling at me. The thought has me smiling.
Monica grins wide, and I realize my misstep.
“I wanted to talk about us,” she says, voice breathy.
“Us?” The word sounds weird, coming from her mouth.
We haven’t been a pair since I was eighteen. There is nous.
“Yes.” She nods and squares her shoulders. “I think when we were younger, it was harder to talk about our feelings. But I’m hoping we can finally be honest with each other.” The words are too formal, like she rehearsed them.
And also like she expects that I’ve been planning things to say to her. But I’ve got nothing.
When Monica and I ended, I counted us as over. Forever. Over the years, she’s visited Pine Falls, and we’ve been cordial to each other. Holding surface-level conversations when we ran into each other.
But there’s nothing left to say about our relationship. It’s history. Practically ancient.
“I was honest,” is my reply. More honest than she knows.
Monica frowns, and I wonder if she thought I’d be more excited about this topic. About the possibility of rekindling a long-dead romance.
“I just … I don’t understand.” She gazes up at me, a sheen in her eyes. “We were talking about our futures and marriage and living our lives together. Then you ended things. What happened?”
You freaked out when I showed you what I really was and begged to have the memory erased, I want to answer.
Monica might remember the conclusion of our relationship being my doing, but really, she ended things first.
And who knows? Maybe I was too hasty. Maybe if I had waited a few more years, let Monica grow more mature and confident, she might have reacted differently to learning that werewolves existed. Looking back, we both made mistakes. It’s just that I’m the only one who knows about them.
But the other thing I see clearly now is that this woman in front of me is not for me. I was happy to hear she was doing well in Denver, but there’s not one part of me that cares if our lives intersect again or not. All I want is to be back beside the argumentative librarian currently wearing my clothes and kicking my brothers’ asses with accurately aimed beanbags.
“I realized that we weren’t right together,” I tell Monica. It’s the truth.
“Butwhy?”
Hell, it’s like she’s asking me to list off faults, which I would never do. So, I pick something that’s not a failing.
“I’ve always felt the need to stay here. In Pine Falls. You wanted to travel. And that’s fine.”
“We could’ve done long distance.” She steps toward me. “I never forgot about us.”
You did, I want to point out.You forgot on purpose. I had to pay a witch to take memories you thought were too horrible to live with.
I could never be with someone so disgusted by me. So fearful of my other half.
“I’m not the kid you used to know. We’re both different people.”
“Exactly.” She smiles up at me as if I just agreed with some point she made. “We’re different. We’ve grown. I’ve gotten over my travel itch. This time, we could make it work.” Without my permission, she sets her hands on my chest. “I could get a teaching job at the school. We could fix up that old house just off Main Street. Start a family. I want you to be the father of my children.”
Damn all the gods.
