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He opens his mouth to say something, snaps it closed again, then opens it once more. “Damn. You don’t have to be so hurtful about things.”
I wring my hands in frustration. “That’s the thing, though, Neal. I feel like I do have to be hurtful to you in order for you to actually listen to me. Our entire relationship is an example of that. How many times did I tell you I didn’t feel like we were meant to be together? How many times did I tell you I felt like I was supposed to be alone and needed to focus on my career and myself? How many times did you hold my hands and tell me I just had cold feet and that you knew we were meant to be together? It just felt like you were constantly ignoring my feelings and gaslighting me into staying with you. Even now, when I’m trying to tell you how you fucked up my life here by following me to Colorado and continuing to try to get back with me, you still make it about you and your feelings. You just admitted that you used my best friend and slept with her then tossed her aside, and yet you’re still making this about you?”
I see a dim light of recognition in his eyes and think that maybe, just maybe, I’m finally getting through to him.
“So what are you saying, Brook?”
“I’m saying what I said to you over six months ago when we broke up. I’m not in love with you, Neal, and I haven’t been. I don’t love you and I don’t want a future with you. I’m in love with Tyler. He’s the man I want to spend the rest of my life with if I haven’t completely ruined it. I’m not saying this to be cruel. I truly want you to find your person and be happy. I just know that person isn’t me.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring he offered me months ago, back when I turned him down the first time.
“Do you at least want to keep this? As, like, a token or memento of what we had together?”
“No,” I shake my head, “you keep it. There’s a woman out there who will wear it proudly as your fiancée.”
He shakes his head and puts the ring back into his pocket.
“I’m sorry, Brook, for everything. I’ll go now.”
He squeezes my hand and gets up, walking out of the restaurant and out of my life for what I hope is forever.
It’s beentwo weeks since I’ve spoken to Tyler.
Two weeks of crying myself to sleep almost every night.
Two weeks of having to look at his photos every damn day while I post to social media.
Two weeks of agonizing torture.
I make sure I’m not only at the office early in the morning, but I also stay late. Because if I’m at home, I find myself glued to one of the windows, hoping to spot him working the ranch.
It’s pathetic.
I haven’t heard from Neal since our last conversation. So far, he’s kept his word. I wanted to reach out to Tyler to let him know that I resolved the issue, but I also wanted to respect his space. And honestly, I’m worried that if I do see him face-to-face, he’ll tell me it’s over for good.
But today, I’m sucking it up and walking over to his house to tell him that I bought him a plane ticket home before all this went down. I still want him to spend Christmas with my family and me, and I leave for home tomorrow.
I pull my coat tightly around my body as I walk across the field to his house. There’s a car I don’t recognize in the driveway. I’m about to walk up the porch steps when the door opens and Tyler steps out with Selma.
“Thanks again. I’ll give you a call about it after Christmas.”
Her back is to me as she leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sounds good, Ty. Have a Merry Christmas and tell your family I said as much.” When she turns around and sees me, her eyes flash to me then Tyler. She offers me a tight-lipped smile before getting in her car and leaving.
“Are you guys back together now?” I try to keep my expression emotionless, but it’s a losing battle.
“Hey, Brook, can I help you with something?” He doesn’t answer my question and it pushes me over the edge. The floodgates open and big, fat tears tumble down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands, hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t.
“Hey,” he says, walking down the stairs and pulling my hands from my face. “No, she and I aren’t back together. She’s an interior designer who decorated this house over two years ago. My mom sent her over to finish up some project.”
I search his eyes, hoping to see some hint that he still loves me, but he turns and pulls me toward the porch, where we both take a seat.
“So?” he says, looking over at me.
“I, uh,” I wipe away the snot and tears, “I wanted to stop by and apologize again for everything. I had a talk with Neal the next day. I told him about us—you,” I correct myself, unsure if there’s still an us to be had. “He’s gone and he apologized for everything.”
Tyler slowly nods like he’s thinking over every word I say.
“I wish I could make things right. I wish I could apologize a billion times so you’d know I would never just up and leave you. I didn’t just leave Neal, either—it was months, even years, in the making, because he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and at that point, I wasn’t brave enough to leave.” I can feel myself start to hyperventilate and trip over my words. Tyler reaches his arms around me and pulls me into his side.
