I sat there in her driveway for a long time, staring at her closed door, waiting for … I didn’t know what. For her to change her mind and come back out? That was what would happen in the movies, right?
But the door stayed closed.
Finally, I put the car in drive and headed home to a house that echoed with her absence. Every room we’d spent time in felt too big, too quiet. The living room still smelled faintly of her perfume and our sex, which made it worse. I got hard again just standing there.
I moved to the kitchen, staring at the mess, and felt the full weight of what I’d done crash over me.
I’d had her. For one perfect night, I’d had everything I’d ever wanted. And then I opened my mouth and destroyed it.
The rational part of my brain tried to argue that I’d done the right thing. That honesty was always the best policy. That Holly deserved to know the truth. That building a relationship based on a lie—even a lie of omission—would have been worse in the long run.
But the irrational part—the part that was currently drowning in fear and regret—didn’t care about long-term relationship health. It just wanted her back.
She’d said she would call. That she just needed time to think.
But what if thinking led her to the conclusion that I was some kind of creep, that my behavior had been too invasive? That she couldn’t trust what the math had revealed? What if she decided that whatever we had wasn’t worth the complication?
What if I’d just ruined my one chance at happiness?
Desperation took hold of me, and I picked up my phone and pulled up her contact information, my thumb hovering over the call button.
Give her space, I told myself firmly.She asked for time. You have to respect that.
I set the phone back down and forced myself to walk away.
The afternoon crawled by. I tried to distract myself by pulling up the code I’d been tinkering with the other day but it couldn’t hold my attention for more than five minutes. I opened my email instead and scrolled through messages I didn’t care about from people who meant nothing to me.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of failed productivity and obsessive phone-checking. I’d set it face-down on my desk to avoid the temptation, then find myself picking it up thirty seconds later. Checking for a notification that never came.
By sunset, I’d convinced myself she was never going to call.
When my phone finally buzzed, I lunged for it so fast I nearly knocked it off the table.
Unfortunately, it was Nate thanking me for the donuts I’d had delivered to all the emergency service workers a couple of hours ago. A little too on the nose, perhaps, but there weren’t a lot of businesses open given the storm, and I wanted to make sure they hadsomethingto eat.
I stared at his message for a long moment, then set the phone down without responding.
The fire I’d built earlier had burned down to embers, so I added another log, watching the flames catch and build, and tried not to think about last night.
My phone buzzed again, but this time, I didn’t rush to check it. I just let it sit there on the table, the notification lighting up the darkness.
When I finally picked it up a few minutes later, my stomach dropped.
Holly
Can we talk tomorrow?
Are you free in the afternoon?
My hands shook as I typed back.
Me
Yes. Whatever time works for you.
Holly
Is 2 okay? I can come to your place.
