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It’s not unusual. I’ve always felt kind of stressed when I’ve gotten invested in a romantic relationship—scared and hopeful at the same time. Shaky. But I didn’t think I was going to have to feel that way with Chase.
When we’ve reached the outskirts of town, my nerves have gotten worked up to an intolerable state. I have to say something.
“So.” I clear my throat. “Should we... should we talk?”
He glances over again. “Talk about what?”
Shit. He usually makes things easy for me. Predicts what I’m going to say. What’s gotten into him today? “About us. We’ve never really... sorted things out.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “We haven’t?”
“No. I mean, not all the way. We’re together now, right? So what is that... What is it going to look like?”
The muscle in his jaw ripples as he slows the car down because the speed limit has lowered. “What do you want it to look like?”
My hands are almost shaking. There’s no way in the world I should be so nervous right now. It’s probably just my normal issues—my need for all questions to be answered—rather than what I’m imagining is suddenly wrong between us. Absolutely nothing has happened to mess things up since yesterday.
I must be making it up, so I fight through the fear.
“I... I don’t want to be the only one deciding that. I’ve gotten really nervous, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just getting back home, back to real life. I was hoping we could... we could talk it out.”
“I guess it’s natural for things to feel different once we’re home.” He darts me a couple of quick looks but is mostly looking at the road in front of him. “We don’t have to tell anyone yet. Just take things slow. If that will help.”
I’m almost strangling on a lump in my throat now. His suggestion isn’t at all what I want. I’ve been looking forward to telling all our friends, being a couple with Chase now. Openly.
I’m doing my best to hold it together, but he must see something on my face. “If that doesn’t sound good, we can do something else. What will make you less nervous, Paige?”
It’s almost worse—his kind question and soft tone. He’s always done that. Seen the truth I’m trying to hide and gently pulled it out of me.
But I don’t want our relationship to be only him taking care of me. I want to take care of him too. I want to give him what he wants and needs even if that means we have to slow down.
We’ve only been together a couple of days. Dreaming of passionate declarations of eternal love is utterly ridiculous. Immature. A girlish fantasy.
This is a real relationship in the real world, and his needs are as important as mine. I’m not going to make him feel bad for wanting to take it slower.
“No,” I say at last. “That will be fine. It’s probably a good idea. Things happened pretty fast, so it’s smart to take it step by step. We don’t need the pressure of everyone knowing yet. We can keep it quiet and see how things go.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I wish I didn’t know him as well as I do.
I wish I couldn’t see that, beneath the purposeful mildness on his face, he’s relieved that I’ve agreed.
SINCE WE’RE IN MY CAR, he drives to his grandmother’s house. I plead tiredness so I don’t have to spend too long greeting his grandmother and saying goodbye.
The trip was so good. Without doubt the best ten days of my life. But now it has petered out at the very end, and I still don’t quite understand why.
But I do know I’m not going to last very long before I simply break down into tears. I have to get away—get back to my place where I can be alone—so I can finally let go of my composure.
I make it to my house, text my family and friends to let them know I’m back in town, and then haul my luggage out to unpack and start laundry. I always do that immediately on returning from a trip.
I hate the sight of a bag that hasn’t been unpacked.
I cry a little bit as I work, and then I collapse on the couch to wait to move my first load of laundry into the dryer.
My house is the same as it’s always been. Neat and comfortable and pleasantly decorated without a lot of clutter.
But it feels different than it did before the trip.
