But can I look myself in the mirror for the next fifty years ofmy life and say I did what I knew was right if I bail on going to London for a guy I’ve been sleeping with for a week?
And what happens when we break up?
What happens if I give up my dream,again, for a man,again, and he pullsthis exact shit that he’s pulling now?
If he can’t tell me what’s going on right now, what are the chances we could survive a long-distance relationship?
What are the chances that this won’t happen again?
What are the chances that he’ll do the work necessary to truly, openly, willingly love me without all of the fear thatI cannot fix for him?
It doesn’t matter how much I can see what this is.
It matters thathesees it.
It matters thathewants to fix it.
Am I going to London?
I take a deep breath. “Yes. I’m going to London.”
He doesn’t answer, but I hear the shower turn on.
I test the handle.
Locked.
“Fletcher, let me in.”
“I don’t need to beCoach Goldie-ed. Doing fine. You know where the door is.”
I suck in an unsteady breath. “So that’s it?” I say to the door. “Do you have any idea what you’ve meant to me the past month? How nice it’s been to have a friend my age again that I trust? To laugh with you and fight with you and have sex with you? You’ve been so much more than a friend, Fletcher. So. Much. More.”
My heart hurts.
My head hurts.
My eyes are on fire from holding back tears and there’s an iceberg in my throat.
He doesn’t answer.
I lean into the door and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m not leaving you,” I repeat.
“Wish you would,” he replies.
I wish I could say it’s self-respect that makes me push myself away from the bathroom door and go in search of my clothes, but it’s not.
It’s the aching pain of rejection.
There’s nothing I can say that will make him see me leaving for London, for this trip I’ve been anticipating foryears, as anything more than me abandoning him.
There are fuckingphones.
It’sthree months.
This isn’t about me going to London. It’s not about me being a digital nomad and traveling the States to gather research for my next book when I get back.
It’s about him not being willing to have enough faith in me for us to work out how to have a real relationship.
