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He had been so amazing and uplifting and supportive with me—a woman who’d been afraid to get within five feet of men when I’d first met him. How could he be anything but exactly that for his Bea?
He studied me a moment as if considering my worth before he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, talking in hushed tones. “Can I be completely confidential with you?”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” I sputtered, blinking rapidly. “Since I’ve shared things with you that I would want repeated to no one.”
“Right.” A small, self-deprecating laugh rumbled from him as if he’d forgotten all about that, then he jammed his hat on his head. “So Bea and I aren’t exactly—er—open about our relationship.” Sniffing, he rolled his eyes. “Hell, I doubt she even classifies us as being in a relationship.”
My jaw sagged loose as I gaped at him. Because that was the very last thing I’d been expecting him to say. Then I shook my head, certain I misunderstood something. “I’m so confused right now. What exactly do you mean by open?”
He gave another one of those dry, humorless laughs, before clarifying. “Our relationship’s a secret. No one knows about us. Not her family. Not my family. Not any of our friends, and we have—like—all of our friends in common. I’ve known her as long as I’ve been alive, and we’ve been indiscriminately hooking up together in secret for about the last nine months or so.”
“Are you serious?” I whispered in total shock.
He nodded, then said, “You look like this completely surprises you.”
“Because it does!” Clasping my hands to my head and trying to make sense of it all, I uttered, “You just—you talk about her as if she’s your everything and you love her like you love no one else.”
He gulped painfully before rasping, “Because I do, and she is.”
I furrowed my brow. “Then why are you hiding it?”
“It’s not my idea to—” he started defensively, only to cut himself
short and grind his teeth as if he didn’t want to reveal that part. But I’d already caught on to the gist of what he was saying.
“She’s the one who doesn’t want anyone to know,” I concluded.
He lifted a finger in warning. “Don’t make her out to be the bad guy here. She’s not. She just—she—I don’t think she had fully healed yet from a really bad breakup when we first got together, and she’s still really sensitive about words like dating and couples and relationships. We were supposed to just be this casual thing when we started.”
Pausing, he winced at his own words and then backtracked. “No. Casual’s not the right word. We were never casual.”
“It was supposed to be no strings. No labels. No heartbreak,” I filled in softly. “Safe.”
He pointed at me. “Yes. That, exactly. I think that’s what she needed. And that’s what I’ve always tried to give her. Except lately, I—fuck. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I keep finding myself pushing. And I don’t want to do that to her. I don’t want to push or scare or pressure. But all the lies and secrets are starting to get to me. I just don’t know what to do aside from never drinking again so that I don’t blurt out any more stupid shit to her like I did last night.”
“Your drinking isn't the problem,” I told him.
He looked over with a frown.
“It’s a symptom,” I corrected. “The problem is that you’re trying to be in a one-sided relationship, and that’s not a thing. For two people to do anything together, both of their requirements should be considered. And you’ve only been thinking about meeting hers. Which is awesome and noble and sweet of you, but you’re also human with your own wants and desires, and you’re only going to be able to go on this way for so long before your needs start revealing themselves in ways you don't condone. Like in nasty, painful, unhealthy ways. When all along, you could've just told her what you want in a much more constructive, loving way. It’s not fair to either of you for you to keep your needs a secret. It’s only going to delay an inevitable split or delay the beginning of whatever change she might actually be willing to make in order to help you get what you want too.”
“Damn.” He drew out a long breath before pressing a fist to his mouth and laughing dryly. Then he dropped his arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to become a life coach?”
I preened. “Well, when you learn from the best, you’re bound to pick up a couple of tricks of the trade.”
This time, his laugh was more genuine. But then he grew serious all too soon. “Fuck, El,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I know you’re right. I just have to have an honest conversation with her. But I’m scared to death.” When he glanced at me, his brown eyes were full of turmoil. “I can’t lose her. I am so completely gone for this woman. But what if it turns out she just doesn’t want me the way I want her?”
“Pfft.” I waved a non-concerned hand. “I totally cannot imagine her being that stupid, otherwise you wouldn’t be so interested in her in the first place. Of course, she wants you back.”
And even if she didn’t, he still needed to find that out sooner rather than later. Not that I was going to tell him that part; he’d chicken out for sure. What he needed the most from me right now was a big ol’ dose of over-inflated confidence.
“Everything will be fine,” I assured him, reaching out to pat his hand.
He sent me a questionable glance. “You didn’t hear what I said when I drunk called her last night. I got her voicemail and left a message with all these stupid questions, basically asking if she thought we should just end things when that is the very last thing I want. Then, she called back to confront me, and I blurted out that I loved her.”
I frowned. “Is that the first time you told her?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
