“So do you,” he says, slipping his hand into mine and taking me in. “Heels and everything. God you’re a sight. Those broads in Germany do not compare.”
I cannot imagine Erebuni ever saying anything like that. Then I tell myself to stop it because Erebuni doesn’t want me. He does.
He backs out of the way to let me into the apartment. It’s the same, clean as a whistle as always. His TV takes up most of the main wall, but there are a couple of freestanding bookshelves with his old law school textbooks and a smattering of items like his massage gun, a Fitbit hooked up to its charger. His laptop and his productivity journal are on the table, so he must have been working right before I got here. Didn’t take the day off, I guess.
I rest my hand against his black leather couch, briefly allow myself to enjoy the view of the Golden Gate, and half smile. “So you had a good time?”
His gaze meets my hand, the one with the large sparkling rock on it. Oh, right.
“You’re wearing it,” he mumbles, clearly touched.
I nod. Yep, this is it. I’m saying yes, this is what I wanted. I’m going to have a future with him. My throat feels tight.
“But you should know...” I trail off. I should tell him about Erebuni, that we had basically broken up so I hooked up with someone else. But it wasn’t a hookup. How can I talk about her to him? I continue, “I lost my job. I got fired, actually. It’s so shitty.”
And surprising myself, I choke up, and God, there are tears in my eyes. He makes a longawsound and wraps me in his arms again. My neck is more comfortable this time, but I feel like I’m in a vise.
This time he pulls away, and he looks me right in the eyes. “Schatzie, it’s gonna be okay. I got promoted, plus a monster bonus. Honestly, you don’t have to ever work again.”
The way he says that last sentence. I doubt he meant it that way, but it feels like he took my entire career, shoved it into a box, and stomped on it. My voice sounds small. “Oh, that’s good to—Congrats. I’m happy for you.”
He looks me right in the eye and settles both his hands on my shoulders. “I missed you.” He whispers it, like he’s too scared to say the words out loud and show how vulnerable it makes him. Typing it is one thing, saying it out loud? No, don’t show weakness. Then he brings his face closer and closer to mine and, oh no, he’s going to kiss me. Why did I think this would be okay? He does it, his lips hit mine, and everything in me revolts. Every system in my body is rising together, shouting at me,No, stop it.
So I pull away and I’m about to tell him about Erebuni, but he lifts a finger, like,Wait, I’ve got something. He darts into the kitchen. I sink into the couch, wishing the leather were softer so that it would swallow me whole. I want to be brave, I want to tell him no, I can’t keep this up.Follow him, Nar. Tell him.
Erebuni. I’m not done hoping, not done being sorry or wanting to make it up to her. Not done wanting to be with her. Even if my article never makes it, I can’t give up on her.
Even if she never speaks to me again, I can’t be with Trevor. I shouldn’t have come here like this, I shouldn’t have worn the ring.
I’m going to cut the net, setting myself up to potentially be alone forever. But free.
God, poor Trevor.Sorry, bro, I think, hearing Arek’s voice in my head. The thought of Erebuni’s friends lands gently on my shoulders, both sad and happy.
I stand up to follow Trevor, to tell him, but just then he waltzes in with a pep in his step, holding two champagne glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon and of course he just has that lying around. He’s always had a penchant for fancy champs. God, this is going to sting. Still, I know now more than ever it’s the right thing to do. I’m going to start here with Trevor and keep doing the right thing over and over and over.
“I was seeing someone,” I say. That wasn’t... exactly what I wanted to say, but I can’t bring myself to open with “We’re over.” There’s a flare of anger on his face, the green of jealousy, then it smooths over into something else I can’t quite read. Guilt?
He shrugs. “I can’t be mad at you for that. I had a couple of hookups myself.”
A couple? I’m having a hard time stifling the shock on my face because Trevor is not the type to casually hook up. At least that’s what I thought. But mostly, I realize he doesn’t get what I’m telling him at all, and he’s about to do a “what happens in Munich stays in Munich” and say that we should forget each other’s transgressions. But that’s not what I’m trying to tell him.
He puts the bottle and glasses down on his dining table. “They were nothing, just girls at the club. One of those all-night parties where they almost didn’t let me in because I was such a normie.” He snorts at the memory. Then he gets serious again. “The girls meant nothing. One-night stands. They didn’t have anything on you.”
The way he says it, comparing me to one-night-stand clubgirls, makes me feel like they perhaps did have something on me. But it doesn’t matter.
“I wasn’t—Mine wasn’t—”
Why can’t I just say the words? Fear of the unknown, of being truly alone, is holding me back, but I can’t let it.Get them out, or you’ll end up making some excuse and end up with him out of convenience. I can’t do that, I won’t. “I’m not sure we can be together.”
That gets his attention. His eyes darken. “What? Is it because of this guy?” Then, accusingly, “Who is he? Someone I know? God, is it Dave? He always had a thing for you, I knew it—”
I interrupt him before that thought can go any further, “No, not Dave. Someone you’ve never met. I just met her recently myself.”
His eyes bug out. “Her?”
I stay cool. “I told you I was bi. Is it so hard to believe?”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just for hooking up. Not, you know, for a relationship, for something you’d call ‘meeting someone.’ ”
