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I didn't think of Eric.
Not even once.
"I just… He was just there."
"Eric is having a hard time, Hanna. You don't see it cause you are too goddamn blinded by Jameson."
I sigh, a little confused by her defensiveness but thankful for her honesty. "You're right."
"Hanna, I know Jameson coming back is a big deal and that you are having trouble navigating that relationship but don't hurt other people you love in the process. That's not you."
I wipe my tears, excusing myself from the conversation, finding Eric on the backside of the pavilion. He's sitting alone, boots swinging from the brick retaining wall, drinking a beer.
I climb up next to him, sitting down and allowing my feet to hang over the edge next to his. He doesn't say anything, probably still pissed at me from earlier.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He downs the bottle, slamming it down on the brick, "It's fine."
"No, Eric, it's not fine. We've been struggling, and it's all my fault."
He sighs, "I asked you, Hanna. The day I found out, I asked you if you loved him."
I feel my heart sink, "I know."
"Why did you lie?"
"I didn't necessarily lie. I didn't know how I felt."
"How do you feel now?"
The pain in my chest worsens as I think about Eric walking away. "Honestly?"
"Yes, Hanna. No more hiding."
"I'm confused," I admit, "but I think I love the idea of the guy that I once knew so much that I can't see straight sometimes."
He grabs my hand, his thumb grazing over my engagement ring. "He was your first love. He gave you Ellie. It's normal for you to care about him. He was your first, and some of those feelings just don't go away. I get that. I do. You just need to decide if those feelings are real or a figment of your imagination. You know, something that you just wished for so long, and now that he's here, you feel bound to those dreams."
I sit quietly, thinking about what he said. Maybe he's right. The past six years, my only hope was that he'd come back and we'd be together. I dreamed a million dreams and wished a million wishes. All with the same outcome. Togetherness. Maybe my feelings have more to do with attachment than love.
"I love you," I blurt, grabbing his hand. "I do love you, and I want to marry you, Eric."
"But?" He asks, turning toward me.
"No more buts."
