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“Okay.”
There’s nothing but silence, and I’m almost back to my dreamlike state when he speaks again. “This is bullshit. It’s not working.”
My sleepy, easy, dreamlike state evaporates, and my eyes fly open. My own heart rate spikes, thinking of the last time he said those words.
My apartment.
College graduation.
The night he broke my heart, leaving my dreams of having the perfect life in ashes.
So much has happened since then. I kept my word, never letting our past seep into our lives with our friends. At Bizzy and Shaw’s wedding, I had a moment of weakness that ended up with us in bed again and me leaving him with the ball in his court.
I didn’t wait long. One wild encounter with rabid opposing fans at a football game and a few hours in the drunk tank and everything changed. He took me home that night, and we’ve been together ever since. Families and friends were blended. Lives were happy, and I played into the scenario. But not once did Mathis and I ever discuss what happened all those years ago or any type of future.
He tried.
I deflected.
I wasn’t going back there. I was happy being the girlfriend, the best friend, and the intrusive nosy-body that was in everyone’s business.
We’ve been through it all—weddings, break-ups, reunions. The loss of patients that hit us hard, and the rejoicing of children getting the news of remission. Holidays, births, near-deaths… all of it.
It was easy to be with Mathis because it was right. I didn’t fight him when he swept me back off my feet over a year ago. I went with it. He expected a fight, but he wasn’t getting one. I let him think the carefree Claire was okay with all that happened before. It was simple, it was euphoric, but in the back of my mind, I always remembered how he sliced me open, and I was prepared for it to happen again.
Now, it’s happening. ‘It’s not working’.
I move to slide off of him, knowing my bag is never unpacked, and I can make a clean escape. I’m halfway to the edge of the bed when he hauls me fully on top of his body.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to go home.”
There’s a rumbling low in his throat, and his arms clasp tighter around me. “No, you aren’t.”
“You just said it’s not working. I’m going home.”
“Fucking shit, I meant this double occupancy thing isn’t working. We need to talk about it. Our schedules are sporadic. Two places are too much. We need to have a place together.”
It’s my turn to tense. My heart rate is now pulsing so hard, it’s rushing in my ears. No, no, no…
This is not how it happens with the Bennett brothers.
No ‘I love you’.
No ‘We’re moving in together’.
No ‘You’re mine forever’.
He said, “We need to have a place together.” Like it’s a convenience.
“Mathis, you’ve worked for almost three days straight. Let’s discuss this later.”
“We’re talking about it now.”
I push away from him forcefully, my head no longer clouded by sleep but in flight mode. Luckily, I can grab my purse from his dresser, slide my feet into flip-flops, yank up my bag, and run before he can get his pajama bottoms on.
I bolt from his room, his condo, and jump into my car, speeding away.
