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“Is it the long-distance thing?” he asks, startling me as we make our way out of the park. I didn’t expect him to broach the topic. “Because I come back here all the time.”
“No, it’s not that,” I reply, choosing honesty. “I’m sort of maybe… I’m hung up on a guy right now.”
Surprise flashes in his eyes. “That Pax douchebag?”
“Definitely not him.” Just thinking about him makes me cringe.
“Who?”
“Nobody you know,” I lie, and he sees straight through me. I’m a terrible liar. My twitches give me away, always forcing their way out when I’m in the middle of an uncomfortable situation.
“You’re in love with Cunty.” And then his eyes widen. “Are you sleeping with him? Is that why he’s getting a—”
“Don’t,” I beg, gripping his arm, eyes filling with tears. “I regard you as a good friend, you make me so happy whenever we talk or hang out. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Please don’t cry.” He pulls me into his chest, and we hug briefly, it’s not intimate, it doesn’t fill me with silent butterflies battering their wings inside my body. But it’s nice, warm, and comfy. “No judgement here. Just disappointment.”
“I just… it’s not how it sounds.”
He raises a brow. “You mean you didn’t have an affair with your married boss? Every boss’ fantasy, by the way.”
“I wish I could excuse it all, but I can’t. We just clicked… you know? And everything just happened. I didn’t actively seek out a married man. Trust me. The only reason I’m sticking around for all of this is because of how I feel about him. If I didn’t love him like I do it never would have happened. The drama and the sneaking are killing me. It keeps me up at night. I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
He nods thoughtfully, guiding us to his rental car in the lot. “Then perhaps you should end it until you’re sure it’s what you both want? Then pick up where you left off in a few months? That way nobody gets hurt.”
The wisest suggestion yet. “That’s some solid advice there, Robert.”
“I have my moments.”
“I’ve been considering that too, but I’m terrified Ezra will go back to his wife.”
“You mean… where he should be?” he comments and my face falls, so does my heart and my willpower. I’ve been considering that too. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I just think that when you marry someone, unless either is abusive, you should be together for life. Too many people rush into divorce that marriage has become such a joke.”
“Is that why you’re not married yet?”
“Yep,” he replies, grinning at me. “Because I believe in the sanctity of it and you can be damn sure I’ll not leave my wife for another woman.”
“He says he’s not leaving her for me.”
“And you believe him?”
I shake my head solemnly. “But what if you fall in love with somebody else unintentionally?”
“I’ll remind myself why I married my wife first.”
This is all easier said not done. He’s not in our shoes so he doesn’t know, not really. He didn’t hear our conversations and see our spark and witness the intense touches we shared.
Feelings like that don’t happen with everybody. We have something special.
I wet my lips and look up at the blue sky, leaning my arms on the door of his rental car. “Do you think that’s all he needs? A reminder of why he loved her to begin with?”
“Definitely, he’s not going to get that with you standing in his way.”
I know he’s not saying it to be cruel or conniving and I love that he’s defending his friend’s marriage. But I don’t know… I just don’t know what to think.
“I was there when they got married, remember?” he says, climbing into the car and buckling in. I follow after a moment and look at him, eyes still blurry with unshed tears.
“Was he in love with her?”
“Absolutely.” He places his hand on mine when I tense and look away. Hurt by his easy admission. “You’re new and shiny, and perhaps he does love you, but he’s not single and he needs to remember that.”
Fuck… his words are hitting me so hard.
“I love him.”
“He’s your first love, it was unfair of him to take that from you when he can’t give you what you need and deserve in return.” His hand squeezes comfortingly and then reaches up to catch a tear rolling down my cheek. “I’m not going to tell you what to do but think about what I’ve said.”
“He loved me before I changed my style,” I point out, “most men wouldn’t even give me a second glance.”
“If that’s what you think, you’re an idiot,” he jests, shaking his head at me. “Back then you were shy and unapproachable. Whenever I tried talking to you, you fled the room or blushed to the shade of a beet.”
