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I try not to put words into other people’s mouths, but over the course of the day, I’d become more and more convinced that “casual” wasn’t working for Caleb. Wasn’t working for either of us.
It had taken me a whole day to notice what David had picked up on in seconds, but perhaps that’s just because I hadn’t wanted to see it.
Because if casual isn’t working then where does that leave us? With the choice of platonic friendship or genuine feelings.
And not all genuine feelings are good.
My gaze is drawn back to David. Specifically to his hands resting gently on the wheel. He’s still wearing his wedding ring.
Before I know it, before I have time to slam the door on emotions better left forgotten, grief takes me by the throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. My eyes are filling with tears.
“Hey,” David’s soft coo is muffled as I reach to cover my face. His hands are suddenly warm on my shoulders. “Liz, it’s okay.”
“No.” I sniff, pressing my palms against my eyes as if I can physically cram the tears back in. “No, it’s not.”
It’s not okay to think about someone you love, someone who once brought so much joy to your life, and feel as if your heart is being physically torn in two. I feel literal pain in my chest as I breathe long and slow, trying to stop the crying before it can begin.
“Dammit, I’m sorry David. I just—”
“Shh, no apologies necessary,” he says.
But they are necessary. He lost the man he loves. His soulmate. How is me being a crying mess going to help? How is this supportive friendship?
The fact that I’m falling apart at all has me more worried than anything else.
For weeks, months even, I’d had everything together. I’d cried, I’d mourned, and I’d moved on. I’d handled Dad’s passing last year. Nick’s had been a slightly harsher blow on my already tender resilience.
And still, I’d dealt with it.
Now…
Now, it’s like I’m reliving Nick’s loss all over again. Seeing it so vividly and so painfully through David’s eyes.
Through the eyes of someone in love. Someone who knows what it means to adore another person so completely that your gravity shifts and you become anchored to them.
And then to have that anchor ripped up and your world sent spinning on its axis? Just the idea had brought on a torrent of emotion and the tears that went with it.
“Dammit,” I say again, bending into my hands. I growl against my palms. “This was not supposed to happen.”
“You crying?” David asks with a laugh.
“No, me—” I cut myself off. Me loving someone. Anger starts to dry the tears. Only a few have managed to fall and I whip them away ruthlessly. “This move was supposed to be a good thing.”
An escape from the overpowering emotions that had surrounded me back in New York. A chance to find my own little piece of land, a quiet little haven, and to keep my heart safe.
And, instead, I have jumped from one impossible emotion right into another. My only shield has been the convenient little label of ‘sex only’, fooling me into thinking that sleeping with Caleb was ever a good idea.
A label that is now looking very, very flimsy.
“I think you need a warm drink, some food, and a hot bath,” David says, assessing the unlit house. “You want me to come in with you?”
I heave an inelegant sniff, shore up my shoulders and try to rebuild a little of my dignity. I swallow and shake my head.
“I’ve got it,” I say. “I just… Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming, sorry, David. I’m good now, I promise.” Luckily, I’d headed the worst off at the pass. No streaks of mascara, no bulging red eyes.
I had teetered on the brink of the emotional chasm, shocked at how quickly I’d reached it without realizing where I was. But I’d brought it back. I’d maintained control.
“You sure, Liz?”
