“You’re so gross.”
“And you’re an uppity little shit,” he said. “Look—Forrest…it—I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a perv?—”
“Too late,” I muttered.
“In that case,” he said, “fine. You’re acting like she’s innocent?—”
“Sheis?—”
“But not in the way you’re thinking of,” he said. “She was married, Forrest.”
“Not legally,” I interrupted again. “Onlyin the eyes of God, whatever the fuck that means?—”
“Stop,” he said, shoving me. “I’m just trying to say she’s not some sheltered kid who doesn’t know what the world is. She knows exactly what the world is. Probably better than either of us.”
I couldn’t figure out how to argue with that.
He was probably right.
“And the shitty thing for her is—” he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to say this delicately. Apparently he failed to figure it out. “—she’s been through hell, she’s had someone really gross…touch her. And then she decides what she wants and she’s told it’s wrong.”
I reached up and squeezed the bridge of my nose, wincing. “Thanks, Sawyer. As if I didn’t already feel like an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole,” he said. “You’re the best guy I know. But that’s also why, out of all the guys in the world, I would think you would be the safest person for her to…explore with. If that’s what she wants.”
"Explore," I repeated.
"You know what I mean."
"I know what you mean and I'm choosing not to think about it."
"Why not?"
"Because she's living in my house, Sawyer."
"So?"
"So it's—" I gestured vaguely. "It's complicated."
"Everything worth having is complicated." He picked up his beer. "You know what's not complicated? Being alone for the rest of your life because you were too busy being noble."
I said nothing.
“She kissed you and she told you she wanted you,” he said.
“I’m aware.”
“The first time could be impulse…but the second time is a choice.” He looked at me. “She was telling you with more than words that she means it.”
The sun was fully gone now, just the last of the light bleeding orange along the horizon.
"I keep thinking about Sophie," I said. Honest, finally. "Not in a — I'm not comparing them. It's not that. It's just." I turned the bottle in my hands. "It felt like something, Sawyer. With Willa. In that kitchen. And the last time something felt like something I lost it, and I?—"
I stopped.
Sawyer didn't say anything. He let it sit, which was the right call.
"I don't know if I can do that again," I said.
