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“Remember.”
“Why?” My breath feels caught in my chest.
“Because,” she pouts.
“Because why?” I ask her quickly, staring at her door handle.
“Because it’s too hard.”
“Why, Parks?”
“You know why.” Her voice sounds shaky.
I swallow. “Tell me.”
“You tell me first,” she says, desperate.
And then her front door opens.
“I’ll call you back,” I tell her before I pocket my phone.
She’s standing there, necklace I just gave her on her already. She swallows, nervous.
I take a step towards her, take the phone from her hand, toss it away. Left hand pushes her up against her door, catch her head with my right one.
I press my body against hers. Our faces are touching, breathing sharp and staggered. She leans her forehead against my mouth and I take a few slow and steady breaths before I find her eyes. And it’s just for a second, but we can pretend that nothing happened. I didn’t hurt her, she didn’t fuck me up. We didn’t lose a baby. She didn’t run away. We’re together. It’s Christmas. The years spin around us like a hand on a clock. I could drown in the what ifs if I let myself — might as well. I’ll be drowning in her anyway for the rest of my life. Happily, too. What a way to go. What a life.
Her eyes flicker up to mine as she waits for me to kiss her.
I can’t.
Because I love her. Because she deserves better than me with a girlfriend I snuck away from to see her. Because I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough anymore. I don’t know how to unhurt her how I did, I don’t know if I’ll ever know.
And then the moment breaks like her heart on her face.
“I should probably head back,” I tell her.
“Right.” She nods once, taking a conscious step away from me.
“Jordan,” I remind her as if we both could forget.
“Right.”
I nod my chin at her. “Happy Christmas, Parks.”
She gives me a tiny, shy smile.
“Merry Christmas, Beej.”
