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“Marnie? You talked to Marnie?” I shot. “Is there anybody else you talked to before coming to me? Or did you poll the town?”
“You should have told me already if you weren’t serious about staying.”
“You told me to think about it. You were the one who wouldn’t let me answer. Jesus, Presley. You’ve been telling me to leave since you stepped foot in this town again. Since we’re making assumptions, let’s lay it all out. You don’t want me here. This was always the deal, wasn’t it? It was always a summer thing, and you had no plans for me to stay. I’m not even convinced that you really want me in Cilla’s life—our child that you kept from me for five years—or if this was just some fantasy you wanted to play out before you shoved me out the door. And what, now you want me to just leave and pretend I’m not a father? Never once have you asked me to stay. Not one time have you told me you wanted me here.”
“And you never fought for us. You don’t want to stay.”
“If you think leaving is what I want, you haven’t been paying attention.” I tried to swallow but my throat wouldn’t open.
“Did you tell them no?”
I didn’t answer. The words jammed in my esophagus.
She rolled her lips and nodded, trying to stop herself from crying. “So I was right.”
“No. I mean, yes, but no—”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Jesus, Presley. Does it even matter anymore? You’ve already decided.”
“That’s not fair,” she said, her voice wavering in hurt and anger. “You’re the one who won’t decide—”
“Why do I have to be the one to make all the choices? Why is all of this on me? You didn’t fight for me either. You didn’t choose me. And now it’s you who’s leaving.”
“Because our timing sucks, Bastian,” she said as tears streamed down her face. “Because you have a dream and I have a dream, and the only way we can have what we want is if we walk away from each other. So I guess that’s what we have to do.”
I watched her for a long, painful moment. “So this is what you want?”
“What I want doesn’t matter, does it? Because this is what I’ve got.”
Rage and rejection trembled through my veins. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind. Go then. You found what you were looking for, and it’s not here.” It’s not me. “This whole time you’ve convinced yourself that I’m looking for a way out, but it’s you who wants an exit. So go ahead and take it. Because if you’re not gonna fight for us, I won’t either.”
Shaking, I turned for the door—I had to get away from her, to find a place where I could think, where I could mourn, where I could try to understand.
If such a place existed.
I counted my steps, waiting for her to stop me. But she didn’t.
And that final blow killed the last of my hope.
23
Always On My Mind
PRESLEY
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommymommymommyyyyyy!”
I groaned, pulling the covers over my head so I could hide from Priscilla as she bounded into my room and climbed onto my bed to jump like she was on a trampoline.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” she said with every bounce.
“Why are you like this?” I grumbled, curling into a ball.
The bouncing stopped. A little body leaned on me and pulled at the covers.
“Mommy? You in there? Wake up, or I tickle you!” Small hands scrabbled over the confusing knot of my body, looking for my ribs.
“You mean like this?”
With a growl, I flipped off the covers and grabbed her, tickling her with the relentless determination only a mother who’s been woken from sleep can rouse.
My heart broke a little more with her riot of giggles.
All joy felt false. A pantomime of pretense.
Exhaustion weighed me down—I’d spent much of the night in tears and the rest drifting in and out of fitful sleep. I’d played through too many scenarios, wishing I’d done things differently. I could have avoided this. I shouldn’t have indulged myself, given how I really felt about him. Maybe if I’d told him how desperately I loved him, it’d have been different. Maybe if I’d asked him to stay, he wouldn’t have decided to leave.
But the argument revolved around pain and fear. Fear of missing our dreams. Fear of failing at our relationship. Fear of letting Priscilla down.
And by our own hands, we’d made it all come true.
Priscilla hit that all-too-crucial moment when tickle-laughter turns into tears, so I ceased the assault in favor of showering kisses all over her face and neck.
She squealed and pushed at me. “Stop it!”
I sighed. “Fine. You’re no fun at all.” I blew a final raspberry in her neck and rolled over, stretching and yawning. I glanced at the clock and realized it was eight. “Shit,” I hissed, sliding out of bed.
