“But nothing happened,” she pleads, walking to the bed. “I slept on the couch. I barely even talked to him.”
That’s probably the least of my worries. After the way she and I have fucked, you don’t go back to someone like Rich for sex. “I believe you didn’t cheat on me. But it still doesn’t matter.”
She sits on the mattress edge, close to me, and lifts a hand as if to touch me. I look at it, and she scratches her elbow instead. “I don’t love him, either. And I meant it when I said I’d never return to him.”
“Sadie, who I thought I loved, chose someone else. My mom chose alcohol. Marissa, she’s going to choose Kendra if things keep going as they are. I believed you’d stick with me no matter how hard it got.”
“I do. I can. I will.”
We stare at each other. She’s in my sheets, in my head. She always will be. I don’t know what to do. I can’t imagine going on without her, but this feels like the worst kind of betrayal. Indecision wars in me.
As she searches my face, her expression eases, and she sits back. “You’re right. I have to go.”
“What?” I ask. “Where?”
“I have to leave you.” Tears fill her eyes again, but she inhales them back and persists. “If I don’t, you’ll forgive me now and let me stay.”
I don’t argue with her. It was true the day she walked into the coffee shop, and the first time she came up to my apartment—and it’s true now. I can’t walk away. I can’t ask her to leave. She’s a part of me.
“You shouldn’t have locked me out of the account last night. Maybe I would’ve revealed myself, maybe not—but it was a mistake I needed to make. If I don’t make these mistakes, I won’t grow up. You’re the one who told me that.” She sniffs. “I need help, Finn.”
I want to help her. So fucking bad. I thought I was doing that all these months, constantly trying to protect her, deleting what I didn’t want her to see, watching my words about all things coffee, wine, shopping and smoking so I wouldn’t say something to make her feel scolded. She’s right, though. I want to kiss her tears away and make it better, but I can’t. She has to figure this out on her own, and it’s too much for one man, trying to save her from everything. I shouldn’t have bitten my tongue about her stopping treatment on her own when I knew it wasn’t a good idea. The only way I can help her now is by letting her get the help she needs.
She stands and picks up her shoes. I almost can’t take it. Where will she go? She needs me. I need her. “You can stay a few days,” I tell her. “While you figure things out.”
She looks at me and shakes her head. “If I do, I’ll break down into a puddle of tears, and you? You’ll pick me up. Dust me off. It’s who you are.” She takes a deep breath. “I love you, Finn. I love you enough to clean up my own mess.”
32
All the benches in the park are taken, even the one semi-hidden by a tree, the one I’ve declared asmybench. Not surprising, since it’s a beautiful day. I have to sit on a window ledge across from the park for a few minutes of peace.
Well, peace is pushing it.
When my mind is left to its own devices, it eventually drifts toher, and she brings me anything but peace. The memory of her walking out, barefoot in tights, a slump in her shoulders, stings just as sharp now as it did five weeks ago.
I pop the lid off my cup and toss the teabag in a nearby garbage can. I’m not much of a coffee drinker these days. First Sadie, now Halston. It’s got an unfortunate amount of involvement in introducing me to bogus soul mates. Some days, I want to say fuck it and go get Halston. It still feels like I’m missing a limb, and it doesn’t help that every goddamn square inch of my apartment, with the exception of Marissa’s room, is a reminder of her. There’s no surface I didn’t fuck her on. No corner I didn’t kiss her in. No chair she didn’t sit in my lap. I might have to give up the place.
I snap the top back in place and take a tentative sip. When I look up and see her coming my way, I nearly spit out my drink but overcorrect and end up dumping burning hot liquid onto my tongue. I use my napkin to mop up the spillage, my gaze trained on her. She hasn’t seen me.
Sadie.
My heart hammers in my chest. She walks in my direction. My urges jump between stopping her and bolting, but it looks like I won’t be doing either since I’m frozen to the spot. As stealthily as I can, I lower my sunglasses onto my face in hopes she won’t see me.
Fuck. In a city this big, I’d hoped I’d never have to see her again. I don’t know where she lives now, probably Brooklyn, but she left this neighborhood right after Nathan found out about us.
She looks the same, except that I’ve never seen her in spring, only winter. I remember her as dark, but she’s wearing a pink dress. To my surprise, it suits her. Her face is fuller, her dark hair shorter. A year and a half ago, I would’ve called her the love of my life, my soul mate, my future. Now I know—she was little more than someone in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending how you look at it.
Me? Now that I’m completely over her, I can say it was right. I don’t miss her. It’s a good thing she chose Nathan, because if she hadn’t, I never would’ve met Halston.
Even if just thinking Halston’s name is like a knife in my heart, I don’t regret a second of my time with her.
As Sadie passes by, the only urge I have left is to thank her for knowing better than I did. I will it to her, hoping she knows on some level that I’m grateful.
And then she stops.
Fuck.
She’s a foot past me when she says, without looking back, “I have a baby now. A girl.”
