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“Katie?” His pleading voice is thick and raw. “Look at me.” He cups my face in his warm hands, forcing me to look at him. “You can’t do what?” His blue eyes are swirling with insecurity and concern.
Just say it. Set him free, Katie. “Us.”
Wyatt sighs, his shoulders drop and he nods at me with a look of understanding. Uh, what? Did he not hear what I just said? “You’ve been under a lot of stress, and I know I haven’t been making it eas—”
“No,” I interrupt.
“Hear me out, okay?” He slides his hand in mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I know I haven’t been what you’ve needed me to be since the funeral, and I hate myself for it.” I shake my head vigorously, but he keeps talking. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to handle you. And then when you shut down, when you closed yourself off, I-I froze. It scared the hell out of me, and instead of pushing you to talk about things and comforting you, I abandoned you.” A pained look overtakes his face.
“You didn’t abandon me,” I quickly argue. Okay, yes, he did give me space, essentially acting as though nothing happened and everything was fine when it most certainly wasn’t fine, but there is no way in hell I’ll let him take the blame for this. “This is com—” Wyatt pushes a finger against my lips, effectively shutting me up.
“I did. I gave you space because I thought it’s what you needed, and every single time you told me you were fine, I just accepted it and moved on, knowing that you weren’t. I should’ve insisted that you open up and talk to me, and I wish I could go back and do it over again, but I can’t. What I will do is promise you that I’ll never act like that again. I’ll promise to be there for you, no matter what.” Anguish rolls off of him, slamming into me, and my chest physically aches. Fuck. “I let you down and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His words cut through me like a knife, and I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. “Stop,” I beg. “Please stop. We both could’ve handled the whole situation differently, but this has nothing to do with that. This— ” Shit. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I blink several times to try and keep the tears at bay. This is so fucking hard.
My hand fists in my lap and I fight the urge to look away, but that would be the cowardly thing to do and he deserves so much more than that. I take a deep breath and blow it out. “My feelings have changed, Wyatt.”
His brows dip low and he drops my hand. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t marry you.”
A vein pops out in Wyatt’s neck, and in one swift move he stands up and takes a step back. “Are you serious? I-I don’t understand.”
Pushing from the chair, I take a step toward him. I’ve never seen him look so helpless and lost, and I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and tell him that everything will be okay. But I can’t. “I don’t want to hurt you, Wyatt.”
“You don’t want to hurt me.” His gravelly voice drips with disbelief. “What the fuck does that even mean, Katie?”
Spinning on his heel, Wyatt turns and paces the length of my room with his hands planted firmly on his hips. When he makes his second path, he stops in front of me. His blue eyes are full of unshed tears, and the sight nearly breaks my heart in two. “Despite what we just talked about, what did I do? Tell me what I did. Was I not attentive enough?” He steps forward and nudges me back. “Did I say the wrong things, or take you to the wrong places?” His voice goes from raw to hard and unyielding. “Tell me what I did!” he shouts.
“Nothing,” I blurt, pushing him back a step. “You didn’t do anything, don’t you get that? This isn’t about you, Wyatt, it’s about me. I’m not in love with you anymore, and you deserve better than that.” I look down. A sense of calm washes over me and my shoulders sag in relief. “I deserve better than that.” My voice is softer and more reserved, because I can feel it in my heart that I’m doing the right thing. He may hate me now, but someday … someday when he’s had time to think, time to move on, he’ll understand.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt.” Our eyes meet and I rest my hand over my chest. “I didn’t see this coming. It crept up on me, and I think that if you look at it—really look at it—that you’ll—”
“Fuck!” His loud voice thunders through the room, and I flinch. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard him yell like that, and I hate that I’m the cause. “I don’t want to look at it, Katie! I love you.”
He shoves a finger into my chest and I stumble back. Catching myself on the dresser, I stand tall, determined not to back down. Regret flashes across Wyatt’s face. Cautiously, he reaches for me, but I step back.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. I know that he wasn’t trying to push me, but I don’t want him touching me. I’m too open, too raw, and frankly, I’m not sure what it will do to me.
“I just want you.” His words are laced with conviction, his eyes shining with passion, and I don’t doubt for one second that he means it. “I want the life we’ve talked about, the life we’ve planned. I want the white picket fence and the tire swing in the front yard.” Slowly, he steps toward me. My feet stay planted as I listen to him beg me for all the things my younger self promised him years ago. “I want those three kids. Two boys and a girl, remember?”
I nod feebly and he takes another step in my direction.
“Don’t you see that in your future?” Ever so gently, Wyatt cups my face in his hands. “Because I do. I see all of that ... with you.”
It sounds amazing … all of it. And I hope that one day I’m lucky enough to experience everything that he’s talking about. But as the words fall from his mouth—as I picture it all in my head—I don’t see it with him, and that brings on a whole new wave of guilt. “Wyatt.” His name is but a whisper, packed full of more emotion than an entire fucking romance novel, and I can tell by the stunned look on his face that he understood the meaning loud and clear.
Wyatt’s eyes widen and he steps back. The passion in his eyes fades, quickly replaced with frustration and pain. “Damn it, Katie!” Spinning around, he moves across the room. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he slides his fingers through his thick blond hair, tugging at the strands.
This is not at all how I saw this going. Honestly, I’m not sure what I expected, but I thought that maybe I could get him to see that this is for the best. I know now that never would’ve happened because tonight I broke his heart, and I know all too well how that feels. How could I ever expect him to understand—let alone someday forgive me—when I’m walking away after promising him forever? I’m still not sure I could ever forgive the man who broke my heart, so why should I expect anything different from Wyatt?
Unconsciously, my thumb rolls my engagement ring around my finger. I look down, watching as the diamond catches the light, scattering specks of color around the room. For the first time since we got engaged over a year ago, the white gold princess-cut ring feels foreign on my finger. The weight of the diamond, like the weight of my guilt, sits heavily, and I slip it off while at the same time letting go of the lie that I’ve been living this past year. It’s cathartic in a way that I can’t even explain. In a sense, I feel lighter. However momentary it may be, the monsters inside of me have calmed, and for once I feel like I can actually breathe.
A low grunt catches my attention. Looking up, I find that Wyatt has put on his jeans, and I watch him tug his t-shirt over his head. He drops to the bed, his elbows on his knees and palms covering his face, rubbing it roughly several times. Please don’t break, I think to myself. You deserve so much more than the broken girl that I’ve bec
ome.
