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"I don't deserve you?" She asks, shocked.
"You don't understand - you don't deserve - this." I gesture over myself. The mess that I am.
"What? You are too good for me?" Tears are streaming down her cheeks and my heart pulls from my chest. She is not understanding me properly. She wipes her face frantically trying to hide her pain, but there is no way she can hide it; her eyes are filled with it.
"No, Em." I want to explain to her that she misunderstood, but I can't find the words. I can't bring myself to tell her I am not good enough for her.
Instead of saying anything else I just shrug my shoulders. Pulling my mouth tight. I know I am pushing her away now, but it is for her own good.
I am a selfish person.
Emma stands up, leaving her unfinished plate of food on the table, she pushes her chair in quietly, slowly. Then with one last look at me, her eyes filled with hurt, she turns away and walks towards the bedroom.
I stay seated where I am. The bedroom closes and I lean forward resting my face in my hands. Fuck, I really am such an asshole.
I pull the whiskey glass back towards myself and swirl the golden liquid against the ice. Fuck it. Whatever happens is what is meant to happen, right?
I go over to the couch and sink into it. Knowing I will not be sleeping in the bed tonight. Know I cannot face that look in her eyes again right now, the pain that I have caused her.
In the morning my head is throbbing when I wake up. My body aches from the awkward angle I had fallen asleep in.
I can hear Emma in the kitchen making coffee and lift my head to steal a glance at her.
She is so beautiful, standing there with her back to me, waiting for the water to heat up. Her slender legs are naked under her oversized tee shirt. She works quietly, not knowing that I am awake. I can't take my eyes off her.
I was such an idiot last night. I should apologize. I should fix it. I should let her know she means everything to me. But I know I can't do that, because she does deserve better than what I am right now.
I sigh a little too loudly and she turns to look at me.
"Do you need Tylenol with your coffee?" She asks kindly.
"Yes, please," I say, feeling sluggish and guilty.
Emma places the freshly brewed coffee on the table in front of me and I groan as I sit up. My body still hurts in places from the accident and sleeping on the couch did not help that. She hands me two tablets and I throw them into my mouth, sipping the hot coffee and letting it wash them down my throat.
"Can we talk?" Emma asks, sitting on the end of the couch.
"About what?" I say, rubbing my head.
"There is nothing you feel we need to talk about, Lennox?"
She is watching me closely, her brows knotted together.
"I just… doubt it would do any good, Emma, dragging up the obvious."
"Obvious? What is obvious?"
"You and me."
She sighs in frustration.
"You have been acting so weird since yesterday afternoon in your office. You might think it is obvious, but I have no idea what is going on with you. How can I know when all you do is act like an asshole and don't actually speak to me about what is going on in your head?"
I sip my coffee, trying to act calm and rational even though I don't feel it. I know she is better off without me. I can provide financial support - that I am good at - but the rest - maybe she would be better off alone?
"I don't think it matters anymore, Emma."
I shrug trying to shift the weight that has settled on my shoulders.
