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“Clay.” I grab his arm so he’s forced to hear me. “I didn’t know he was coming. We weren’t together. He texted me that he was surprising me and on his way, said he would be at my place in five minutes. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want him there. I wanted to see you.”
His eyes are locked on mine as they desperately try to seek out the truth. “Sure didn’t look that way.”
We continue to stare at each other as we’re taken back to that day, him from his vantage point and me from mine. Every time I saw Justin, I made a big deal of it. In the beginning, it was because I couldn’t help myself. My level of excitement would be bursting, and it showed. He repeatedly told me he loved getting this reaction from me, so even though that excitement faded over the years, I still pretended those moments mattered.
“Clay, I don’t know what you want me to say. I understand what you saw, but things aren’t always as they seem. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Justin. I thought about it, but how would that have gone? What would you have liked me to say?”
Can you imagine how that conversation would have gone?“Oh, hey, by the way, I have a long-term on-again, off-again boyfriend. Right now we aren’t together, and I just wanted to let you know that, but I’m really enjoyingspending time with you.”
He doesn’t answer, but then he asks, “Is this just another one? Another break?”
“No. It’s done. It was over years ago, I just . . . I don’t know why I stayed.” I let out a deep sigh. “Well actually I do, but like you just said, these are my issues, not yours,” I tell him, repeating his words and trying to lighten the mood just a little, but his expression just looks pained.
Pained like I’m feeling on the inside. Pained and thoroughly defeated.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel anything other than amazing. That was never my intention. After that weekend, you wouldn’t return my calls or texts or speak to me when we saw each other. I wanted to explain, but you wouldn’t let me.”
He shakes his arm free from my hand and runs it across his face and over the back of his neck. “Do you blame me?” he says slowly, now shifting away from me and looking out at the lake. “You used me, played me, whatever. I was into you and didn’t see that coming.” He shakes his head.
I hurt him, and in a way, I guess I made him feel foolish. No man would ever stay after that.
“I promise you it wasn’t like that. I was into you too. Very much.”
“So why did you stay with him?” He looks back at me. There’s uncertainty in his eyes along with a wide range of other emotions, and I feel sick that I put them there.
“I just . . . you don’t understand.”
No one understands. I feel like this is a conversation I’ve had on repeat with my friends and my family. No one is perfect. No relationship is perfect, but I tried. I was loyal to the plans we made, to each other, and I truly did try. That should count for something.
“What I understand now is that he treated you like a doormat, walking in and out of your life whenever he chose, and you let him.”
I suck in air at his harsh words. “That’s not fair.” Even though his statement mirrors thoughts I’ve had on my own.
He pinches his lips together instead of responding, but I don’t need to hear the word to know he’s just thought,Whatever.
The questions I’ve asked myself repeatedly over the last year rise to the surface. Could I have had Clay all this time? Did I choose wrong? Did he really want me? Were we something serious to him? Without him saying so, I’m pretty sure I have my answers.
My eyes again fill with tears. “I’m really sorry.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Clay finally raises his eyes to meet mine. They aren’t as hard or judgmental as they’ve been, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there was regret.
“Listen, we don’t know what’s going on at your house yet, and I don’t want you there until we do. I know you’d be fine, but I’d just feel better if you were here.”
Does he want me here out of guilt or obligation? I’m not sure. But studying the look of concern and remorse on his face, I decide I can try one more day. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, I just didn’t expect it to be this hard.
“Okay,” I tell him, wishing more than anything I could lean into him, just for a second.
“I’m sorry about Juliet.”
I shrug my shoulders. What’s there to say? She’s his sister and was doing what sisters do.
“So there’s a new brewery in town, Route 11. I’ve been wanting to go check it out and I was thinking earlier that this was something we could do today. We could kill some time while waiting for the plumber to call. Would you like to go with me?”
A tiny flare of hope flickers inside me as I find myself getting a little lost in his beautiful brown eyes.
“Yes. I’d like to go with you.”
14
