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My eyes widen.
My heart races.
What is he saying?
“No. I wouldn’t let you give up everything here for me.”
“I’d do it in a heartbeat, Charlize.”
What is he saying?
Why would he do that?
“No.”
“I can work from anywhere,” he says.
“No, you can’t…. You shouldn’t have to…. No.”
He watches me with such a steady gaze that all I can feel is a sense of safety. Of dependability. Like I can trust what he’s saying and feeling. “The night we met, you told me you look for men willing to make a strong, emotional commitment. You found one. Let me make that commitment to you.”
I can’t.
I just can’t.
Men don’t just promise to uproot their lives for me.
And they certainly don’t keep their promises.
They lie to me.
They break their promises.
They do not stick around and make a life with me.
I shake my head. “No, Owen. I don’t want this. I tried to tell you that when we met. I told you I just wanted sex.”
“And then you kept memories of me, took me to yoga, started a coffee war with me, introduced me to bad movies and romantic comedies, almost convinced me Elvis is still alive, charmed my mother, and agreed to golf with me even though you don’t want to play golf. You made me fall in love with you, Charlize, and I never want to be anything but in love with you. I want all of those things with you every day of my life. And you can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way. I’ve seen it in your eyes, felt it in your touch, known it from your kiss. You do want this.”
He's in love with me?
What is it about our brains that causes them to feed us so many conflicting thoughts?
I’m looking at everything I think I want.
I’m listening to him say all the right things.
And yet, I can’t believe it.
I can’t believe he’ll come through for me.
I take a step back, my heart breaking as I take it. “I don’t want this. I’m moving to California and you’re staying here.”
He listens to me.
He processes what I say.
“When do you leave?”
