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“You talked to your mom about me?” I know I heard the end of their conversation, but I’m still surprised.
“My mom, my dad, Marcus, Aden.”
“I didn’t know guys talk about girls like that.” I crack a half smile.
“We don’t really.” He shrugs. “At least I don’t, but you’re not just some girl. When I mentioned you for like the third day in a row, Marcus looked at me like I’d lost my damn mind. I told him I had.”
I don’t say anything while I try to process what he’s saying.
“Once I had officially decided to leave, he asked me every day if I had told you.”
“I love Marcus. He’s my favorite friend of yours.” He smiles like it means something to him.
“My mom was the worst bugging me about it. She wanted to meet you.”
“She did? I would have liked that.”
“I know. That’s why it never happened. It would have made things harder than I had already made them.”
“So what did you tell her?” I’m trying not to get my hopes up about what he’s saying, but my heart flutters in anticipation.
He looks back down at our hands that are tightly intertwined again, like what he’s about to say is embarrassing. “I asked her how you know you’re falling in love with someone.”
My mouth falls open involuntarily.
He looks at me, without saying anything else. We stay that way, with our eyes locked for what feels like forever.
“I’m sorry, Maci. I know that’s not enough for the way I left you and everything else I should have done in our relationship, but didn’t. I’m sorry I made you doubt how I feel about you.” It didn’t escape me that he used the present tense again, and I wonder if it’s intentional.
I take a breath and rub my thumb over his hand. “It’s okay, Dean. I’ve forgiven you for that. It is what it is. We can’t go back, and I don’t want to.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Did you love him too?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
His questions should feel invasive, but for some reason I don’t mind. I look up, searching his eyes for an answer I know can only come from me. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.” The hesitancy in his voice contradicts the word.
“I do love Mack. He helped me recover from that heartbreak. He gave me what I wanted from you–security, love, real commitment–and I fell in love with him for that and so many other reasons.” I take a breath to judge his reaction to what I’m admitting. He looks defeated, but I continue anyway because honesty is the only thing that’s going to get me anywhere. “I forgot about you because I had to, because it was the only way to move on and give myself a chance to be happy.”
“I hate that I wasn’t there to fix what I broke.”
“Like I said, I’m choosing not to hold it against you anymore. But…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know…” I shift on the bed.
“We already started this, we might as well finish it. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He says it like he deserves the punishment of hearing about Mack. It breaks my heart all over again. Still, he squeezes my hand, urging me to continue.
“It’s just…Mack is great. He’s the one who helped me get this volunteer job. He sent me away from him so I could be happy. I mean, who does that? And when things are good between us, I am happy. I wasn’t capable of handling the heartbreak when you left, I think because I was so mad at myself for being blindsided. Coming to terms with that was hard. Missing Mack is different…almost easier. He made one mistake, but he tries his best to not give me any reason to doubt our ability to make our relationship work. He knows we are worth fighting for and is willing to work through life with me. He deserves the second chance I promised him, one I want to give him when I go home.”
