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She looks up at me. “Is that bad?”
“It is if it happens literally every time I’m over there.”
“Oh,” she says, her mouth forming the shape. “Look, I get that you want to be better for him, but this is Wesley. He gets it, Cooper. He doesn’t care, as long as he’s with you.”
“I care,” I say. “It’s not fair to him. We hardly get to see each other as it is, and then when I am over there I’m passed out.”
“Well, you guys are going out tonight aren’t you? Why don’t you make it special for him? And maybe use the opportunity to just remind him of how much he means to you even though you are super busy right now.”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah, maybe,” I say, glancing down.
Riley stops in the hallway and eyes me. “What do you mean, maybe? You do still care about him, don’t you?”
I look up immediately, but my shoulders are slumped. “Of course I do. I love him, Riley. More than anything. It’s just, there’s more to it than that.”
“Like what?” Her eyes dance over my face and I can tell she’s trying to pick up on what the hell I’m talking about. The thing is, I can’t tell her. If I do, she'll talk me out of it, and I’ve already been spending enough time talking myself out of it, when part of me is convinced it’s the right thing to do. I’ve just been putting it off because I don’t want to. The idea breaks my heart, makes me sick. But I have to think of him. I have to put Wesley’s needs first. I can’t be selfish. He deserves better. Still, I hold on to the hope that maybe tonight will change things. At least the doubts that are whirling through my brain right now, and honestly have been for months.
“It’s complicated,” I say. I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe we can figure some stuff out when I take him out tonight. We’ll see.” I give her a small smile and then walk away.
I’m startled awake by my phone buzzing next to me. A groan escapes my lips as I lift my head off of my desk and wipe away the drool before reaching over to pick it up.
I become instantly more alert when I see Riley’s text message.
Riley: I want to hear all about your date when it’s over :)
Shit! NO! No, no, no, no, no. My heart pounds and I feel the blood rushing to my ears as I check the time. I bolt to my feet, not knowing if I want to scream or cry.
Fuck! 9:23pm. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I almost roar as I slam my phone back down and grip my hair, pulling on it so tightly it burns my scalp. I fucking hate myself. I passed out doing homework and slept straight through my anniversary date with Wesley. I’m such a fucking screw up.
Without responding to Riley I run down the stairs and slide my shoes on, then bolt across the street and ring the doorbell repeatedly.
Wesley answers in a T-shirt and sweatpants, not at all, I’m guessing, the outfit he would have chosen to wear on our date. If I had actually been on time. If I had actually been the boyfriend he needed me to be. The boyfriend he fucking deserves.
He doesn’t look angry, though, or pissed, just resigned. And I think that makes it worse. He’s used to this. He probably expected it. Maybe he never even got dressed for our date because he knew I would let him down. And that’s so not okay.
“Wesley,” I say, drawing in a breath, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean…” but I find I don’t have adequate words. There is nothing I can say that will express my frustration with myself, my disappointment with myself, the way I feel like I have let him down, and continue to let him down over and over again. “Can I please make it up to you? We can try again tomorrow.”
Wesley stuffs his hands in his pockets.“You work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but I get off at eight. We can go somewhere after.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cooper, it’s fine,” he says with a shrug. He looks at me for a moment, then gives me a soft smile. “Go home and rest, okay?”
I blink.“Oh, okay.” I try to ignore the ache in my chest. I had thought for sure Wesley would want to do something to celebrate with me, even if it was small. “Well, I guess there’s always next Friday then?”
“Actually,” he says, “Why don’t we hold off on date nights for now?”
My breath catches in my chest and my stomach sinks. I feel like I’ve just been punched in the sternum. Now he wants to back out of our weekly dates all together? Back out of the one time a week that I actually have to spend with him? That we have to spend together? When I can forget about homework and classes and my job and just soak up time with the person that I care for the most? The person who is keeping me fucking sane right now, through all this crazy shit? Even if our dates are just cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, and even if I did fall asleep, it was better than nothing. I just needed hispresence, his touch. But it sounds like Wesley doesn’t want mine anymore.
And how can I blame him? I’ve fucked up so royally. And things won’t get any easier once I become a pilot. I’ve been realizing that for a while now, that he has needs I can’t meet. And the reality of it is, I don’t think I’ll ever be what he needs. I just haven't wanted to admit it. Because admitting it, means losing him. And the thought makes my head spin, and my chest ache so acutely I feel like someone is gripping my heart and twisting it like a rag, but instead of wringing out water, it’s the air in my lungs, the blood in my body. It’s everything.
“Happy anniversary, Wesley,” I croak out, and then I turn and walk back across the street. I barely make it to my room before the tears fall. My room is a wreck when I’m finished kicking and throwing things, upending furniture, my knuckles bloody from hitting them against the wall.
I sit on the edge of my bed, my vision blurry now from my tears. I tug at my hair once again. Fuck! I don’t want this, but he isn’t happy, and I have to make sure he’s happy. I won’t be selfish. I won’t keep him in a relationship that’s making him miserable, and if he’s backing out on our dates, the dates he has always looked forward to, then it’s the only reason I can think of for him to be doing so. He’s so soft, and sweet, he’d probably date me for an eternity just to keep from hurting my feelings even if it was killing him. I know what I have to do, but it’s going to break my heart.
Fuck, who am I kidding? My heart is in a million pieces on Wesley’s doorstep. And it’s not broken.
It’s shattered.
