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Maybe?
Was my view so skewed over two situations she had no control over?
Was I that fucking shallow I’d be willing to change my opinion in the span of a one car ride?
Was I willing to lose her over this?
Was I willing to love the women I liked? Loved? Couldn’t live without?
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, willing to believe I was a better person, that I needed her no matter what shit happened in her past.
“You are, Simon, and it’s okay. I can see it in those beautiful eyes. Every late meeting or weekend conference, you’ll always wonder. There will always be a sliver of doubt whispering how I fucked not one, but two guys in committed relationships.”
She unbuckled and stretched out her legs, taking the sleeve of her sweater and wiping under her eyes as I pulled into a spot in front of her house. I moved to get out, but she stopped me with a curt nod.
“No. This is over.”
“What?” I said, snapping my head in her direction.
“This is over. Us. This. I’ll do whatever events are left on our calendar, but that’s it.”
Suddenly, whatever shallow, twisted thoughts plagued my mind moments ago evaporated at the thought of her walking away.
“No, honey.” I grabbed her wrist before she could open the door, jerking her harshly toward me. Thankfully, she came willingly, leaning over the center console and bracing one palm on my chest. The muscles in my arm quivered, and my heart raced under her touch, but I didn’t let go. I never wanted to let go.
“Yes. I’m no good for you—for anybody past a good lay. I’m a cheater. I’ll always be a cheater.” She tugged on my arm, but I didn’t let go, gripping her wrist harder and feeling her pulse flutter under my fingertips. I leaned closer, feeling the euphoric satisfaction that always came when we touched. As I closed the distance, her gaze went to my lips, and my other hand traveled to her thigh, caressing her with slow circles.
“You can’t tell me this is just fucking, honey.”
“I already told you it’s not. It’s more, Simon. It’s more.” She tugged her wrist again but with less momentum. “Which is also why it’s over.”
“What about the Ball? I want to go with you,” I said, leaning so close we shared the same breath.
“No. I’ll be there, but not as your date,” she said, giving her wrist one final yank. I let go, and she fell back, bracing herself on the dash. She opened the door, and a ray of afternoon sunlight caught my eyes, making me wince. I took a pair of sunglasses from the console, slammed them on my face, and then focused straight ahead.
“Addison, I’m—”
In love with you.
“See you around, Simon.”
She shut the car door and walked to her porch with a meek nod, letting herself inside and not looking back. I made it all the way home before the guilt overtook me, and I fell into a whirlwind of self-loathing doubt.
