She hadn’t texted me back after I let her know I was on my way, which wasn’t unusual, but something still felt off about it. Like I was walking into an ambush.
When I spotted the familiar soft waves and expressive eyes, I realize that’s exactly what this was. And I had just walked right into it.
Audrey was seated at a table tucked away in a corner where the lights were the dimmest, but I would be able to pick her out in the dark. I was walking towards the table before I realized I’d started moving, and she stood when I get close.
When I didn’t immediately sit, we were left to stand awkwardly in greeting. I didn’t know why she was here. I didn’t know why I was here. Except that Sarah tricked me into this meeting. And I’d absolutely have a word with her about interfering tomorrow.
Right now, I was torn between relief and disbelief.
Audrey’s smile was somber, but even her obvious anxiety couldn’t distract from how beautiful she looked. “You can leave if you want. I would understand if you don’t want to see me.”
I did want to see her. It was all I’d been able to think about, and here she was. But why? “I’ll stay.”
We sat, and a server came by to take our order before departing, leaving us in suitably awkward silence.
My instinct was to talk, open the conversation up, but I resisted. She had orchestrated this with Sarah, so she should talk first. The last time I put my cards on the table, we’d broken up, so as hard as it was to sit across from her and not tell her I wanted to give it another shot, I knew I needed to wait and see what she had to say first.
Besides, what if I read this all wrong? What if this was some sort of breakup post-mortem? But then, Sarah wouldn’t have agreed to that, surely.
It isn’t until after our drinks arrived that she steeled herself with an exhale and started.
“You have to know I love you, and I’m sorry. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you that. I feel terrible that I let my fears stop me from saying that as soon as I could.”
She watched me across the table, and I was aware that I hadn’t moved. Hearing the words that I so desperately hoped for sent my heart into overdrive, but I knew it would take more than that to fix things. I took a swig of my beer just to break my stillness, and she took my silence as a sign to continue.
“You were right that night. It wasn't about the interview. Or the Instagram post, or any of it. I,” she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, “I appear to have some issues letting people help me.” I felt my lips twitch around an aborted smile. She wasn’t wrong.
“I can't excuse how I acted that night. I should have talked to you, told you how much I was struggling. I was so wrapped up in the past and trying to protect myself that I messed up. I kept thinking that having anything more than casual would mean ending up where I was before, which is ridiculous, I know. That I had to choose between this life that I’d built for myself and you, but that was selfish and stupid, and that’s on me.”
Hope began to stir within me. Hope that we could salvage this.
“And I’m so sorry I used your past relationships like that. I was trying to hurt you, and I was wrong. If anything, you’re better off for not having the same baggage as I do.”
Audrey’s eyes shined in the low light, glassy from unshed tears. “No one makes me feel like you do. No one ever has. I don’t want to lose you.”
My continued silence hadn’t broken, but not because I didn’t want to speak. Instead, I had found myself awed speechless because this amazing woman was laying her heart out to me.
“I didn’t think I could feel like this. I thought it was something out of a script you’d probably hate. How could I ever believe in a million years that some incredible guy would come into my life? You seemed too good to be true. So I told myself to just enjoy it while I could. Because I was convinced it wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last.”
After this, because I already knew I was going to accept Audrey’s apology and make this work, I would find that asshole of an ex and make him apologize for ever letting this woman feel an ounce of heartbreak.
She reached across the table to place her hand on mine. “I want this. All of it. I love you. And I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I needed to say it and ask if you still felt the same.”
36
Audrey
He was silent for a moment, and I realized that this was what I had put him through after he’d said the words. How cruel that must have felt, and I endured it now as penance for the hurt I’d caused him.
Tiff had told me to take a leap of faith, but right now, it felt like I was walking up to a cliff and throwing myself off the edge, hoping it worked out.
Finally, he said, “I love you, too. And I want us to be together, but …”
My heart stuttered in my chest when he paused, and in the millisecond before he continued, I imagined all the worst endings that could possibly come after. “But I can never forgive you for hurting me” … “But I’ll never be able to look at you again” … “But I’m moving to another country just to get away from you.”
All of them were increasingly ridiculous, and thankfully, I was put out of my misery before I spiraled any further.
“But I have some things I need to say first.” He gently squeezed my hand, an added reassurance that this wasn’t going to end badly. “I know you said it wasn’t about the interview, but it was for me. I hated that I made it sound like you weren’t anyone important when you are the most important person to me. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do if you asked me.”
