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I winced. “You don’t want me here?”
“It’s not about that.”
“I don’t understand. Did I do something?”
He shook his head.
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you. Okay?”
“Ummm … yeah, okay.” I bowed my head, making my way into his bedroom to grab my stuff.
I was confused.
Embarrassed.
There were so many emotions in a span of a few seconds.
When I passed him, he grabbed my hand. “It’s not you, I promise.”
I nodded, feeling those words in the pit of my stomach.
“Keep my shirt. It looks better on you.”
I softly smiled and backed away, not knowing how to act or even what to say. I quickly moved around his room and grabbed my stuff, realizing just how many of my things were here. For some reason, it made me feel more uncomfortable than I already was.
Was this too much? Too real for him?
I didn’t understand, and the further I thought about it, the more I wanted to call him out on it.
We’d gotten so close… Is he pushing me away?
Question after question tore through my mind. My thoughts ruthlessly weighed in my head. His silence was deafening, and it spoke volumes as he watched me pack up all of my belongings. It didn’t affect him like it was affecting me.
Not for one second.
When I was finished, I gazed up at him. Feeling so tiny in front of his 6’5 frame.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Before dawn.”
“Do you want me to take you to the airport?”
He shook his head.
Although, he was standing before me, he wasn’t there with me. His mind was somewhere else entirely. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to take away his normal demeanor toward me.
“So this is it? This is where we say goodbye? Like this?”
“Sophie, I…” He stopped himself.
Please say it. Just say the three words I’ve been dying to hear for the last five years.
“You what?” I baited, waiting on pins and needles.
He didn’t falter, stating, “I have to go,” in a stern tone.
