Page 96 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Hi.” It’s so surreal to hear him.

I toe out of my shoes and find him in my kitchen, trying to navigate the coffee machine. He's wearing his shirt of our university's hockey team and sweatpants.

“You look better,” I note. Color has returned to his face, he combed his hair and even shaved. “Had a good night's sleep?”

“Yeah, I actually did.” He curses under his breath and throws his hands in the air. Huh. I half figured Elizabeth would be pissed off enough at him in her room, she’d keep him up. “I'm sorry, I don't understand your coffee machine.”

“I got it.” I motion for him to move aside.

“Your place is kind of freaky though,” he continues, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I think your house is haunted.”

“Oh, I know.” I shrug and check how much coffee powder he put into the filter. Not nearly enough for my taste, so I add some more. My house, my coffee.

“You know?” His eyes widen. “And you never thought to warn me?”

“What would the alternative have been, Zach?” I shoot him an unimpressed look over my shoulder. “Where else would you have slept? Because trust me, I wasn't about to bring you to my boyfriend's place.”

“Right.” He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. “The boyfriend.”

“Yes, the boyfriend,” I repeat and start the machine. “Zach, we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh. Last time you said it didn’t end well. Can the conversation wait until I drink my first coffee?”

“No.” I shake my head and lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. This time, the words went a lot easier over my lips.

“Okay.” He straightens his shoulders and takes a deep breath, then mirrors me and leans against my kitchen island.

“I'm not your person anymore.”

He flinches, as if I struck him.

“Getting right to it, aren’t you.” Zach lowers his head dejectedly, hair falling into his face. “Yes. I know.”

I feel a little bad about it. Only for a fraction of a second, though.

“I have told you for years what I needed from you. I have also been telling you for years your job would throw you aside the first hint of a burnout they got.”

“Yeah, you did. This is your ‘I told you so’ moment.”

I grab a hand towel and throw it at him. How dare he make this about glee?

“This is not about a fucking ‘I told you so’ moment.” My jaw sets and I bite the inside of my cheek. “This is not a damn competition. These are our fucking lives.”

“I know,” he shoots back. Then adds way softer, “I know.”

We’ve had this fight countless times, and countless times I’ve heard him tell me ‘he knows.’ This is the first time I believe he means it. Because it's not accompanied by an eye roll or an annoyed sigh. Only resignation, shoulders sinking and a dejected hand running through his hair.

“I know it now.”

“Well, I’m glad you do.” I force myself to take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to contain the anger bubbling up inside me. “But I can't be here for you anymore. I was there for you for years, begging for crumbs of attention and affection, only to be treated like a roommate you were occasionally sharing a bed with.”

“But-”

“Shut the hell up and let me talk, Zach. For years, you put your job first. That was your decision. I respected it. But I also told you countless times how neglected I felt. I can't suddenly muster up any sympathy for you after all of this.”

Awkward silence fills the room. Not even Elizabeth feels the need to chime in.

“You're my first love and you'll always have a place in my heart. But we’re over, Zach. We’ve been over for years.” It's almost funny how easily the words come out of my lips now. “And I can't be your friend. Because when I see you, what I remember most is not your love or your affection. It's those last years. And it hurts.”