“And this is?”
I respond with stunned silence. How long has he been feeling like this?
“Grace, you can’t keep me your little secret forever,” he continues. “I can’t be your boyfriend in private, and a nobody to you in public.”
“What about you?”
He rears his head back. “What about me?”
I’m grasping at straws when I say, “You’re the one who said you’re scared to be vulnerable with someone. You’re the one with your commitment issues.”
He scoffs, and I realize how little I have backing my words. After everything we’ve been through, everything he’s done for me, to say he’s the one with commitment issues is practically laughable. “You think I have commitment issues?”
“You’re the one who said it.” I don’t add the fact how so much has changed since he told me that. Something he told me in confidence and never thought I would use against him.
“How about this for commitment issues? I love you, Grace. I am so fucking in love with you it scares me. But not in the way I thought it would.”
My silly little rebuttal turns into a hard knot in my throat, staying lodged there with no outlet. He loves me.
“And every time you want to keep this a secret from everyone, I want to do the opposite. I want to tell the whole goddamn world. I want to tell my sister and my family, and I don’t give a shit what they say. But if all you want is to hide me from everyone, then I have news for you. I deserve better.”
Everything I want to say to him, how much I love him too, how sorry I am, dies the second he tells me he deserves better. How could I have been so fucking stupid? All this time, those moments when I thought he wanted what I wanted or that he might change his mind about us at some point, I was wrong. He wants more. To hell with all the repercussions and aftermath. People are just going to have to accept us, no matter how much we don’t make sense. And I’m going to have to come to terms with having a boyfriend who truly wants me. Not just for a little while, but for a long while. Maybe forever.
Leaving me speechless and stunned, Andrew gets into his car and drives off. When I finally hear his wheels screech against the pavement, I realize I never got to tell him that I love him too.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Grace
I wishthe rest of my night could simply cut to the next morning. Like in movies where there’s a big blow up between a couple or some fallout during a big family dinner and the next scene is the following morning, skipping all the uncomfortable atmosphere hovering over the moment.
But the thing with real life is there is no fast-forward button. There’s no skip tab I can simply hover the cursor over and click on to move to the next episode. So instead of turning a blind eye and waking up the next morning with a clear head and a forgiving boyfriend, I’m standing in the parking lot of the strip mall with Noah guardedly approaching me.
“I take it that’s…”
“My boyfriend,” I say it with a level voice. The words I should’ve said the first time he asked. “Yeah.”
I turn to face Noah and watch the apologetic look on his face spread to his slouched shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Noah announces that his friend will be in the hospital parking lot in five minutes. He suggests we head back with an air of caution. We walk to my car, me following a few steps behind Noah as I replay the last fifteen minutes. My phone isheld between my two hands while I map out a text intended for Andrew. I consider calling him, but that feels scarier than whooshing a message out through the ominous cellular network. By the time we get to my car, I still haven’t decided what to say.
What do I tell the man who just told me he loves me after he’s seen me sitting at a cozy table for two with another man? Ask for his forgiveness? Start rashly arguing and tell him nothing was even going on? Which is technically true. But the truth doesn’t even seem to matter at this point. I feel sick imagining the hurt and betrayal he must’ve felt as soon as he walked into the smoothie shop. Almost as sick as how I feel trying to understand why I couldn’t just fucking tell Noah about Andrew. The thought comes with a sharp-edged knife sliced into my heart, mixing alongside the queasy feeling that my boyfriend isn’t going to forgive me. If he even wants to stillbemy boyfriend.
Noah’s friend meets us at my car. He introduces himself. I manage a cordial smile but forget his name immediately. He revives my dead battery using his jumper cables, and I say a weak, watered-down “thank you” to the both of them before they leave. Once inside the silence of my car, I slump my forehead against my steering wheel with a heavy exhale into the shiny metal Volvo logo. My phone rings in the cup holder at my side, and it echoes through my Bluetooth speaker. My head jolts up hoping it’s Andrew, but my suddenly hopeful mood dissolves when I see it’s Jade.
“Hello?”
“Hey, you called? Sorry, I left my phone in the other room.”
“I had some car trouble, but I got some help.”
“So, you’re on your way?”
I don’t know if I have the energy to face Jade and brave a fake smile through an evening of trick-or-treating. “You know, I think?—”
A delighted squeal interrupts whatever half-assed excuse I was about to offer my sister, only for it to be outshined by my niece, the whole reason for tonight.
