He was still asleep when I got back, so I went into the shower then woke Angelo up with a cup of coffee only after I was fully dressed and ready.
“We have to leave very soon because, with traffic, finding parking, and all that, we don’t want to get there breathless,” I said, busying myself with ensuring all the documents were in my bag.
Angelo drank his coffee, sitting on my bed and looking at me like he knew that this coffee didn’t come free and that I was planning something.
I was. I was about to tell him to pack.
I just needed to muster the words and reconvince myself that this was the right thing, for the both of us.
My last few days with Angelo had been the stuff dreams were made of. The words he’d said, the way he’d touched me, looked at me, made me feel in and out of bed. Even our passionate arguments were refreshing for me—he forced me to air my grievances, my wants and needs, rather than hold them in. And he was in my corner like no one ever had.Hewas the stuff dreams were made of.
But there was a huge, glaring, blaringbuthere. Everything that had always stood between us from day one was still there.
Even Amber, or the idea of her.
This wasn’t my happy ending. There was a reason I didn’t believe in rom-coms, though they were a guilty pleasure.
I had to find the right words. He was stressed enough about the interview, as was I, and I didn’t want to add strain and pain on top of that. It was enough thatIwas feeling it. I wanted to spare him, at least until we were on the safe side of this interview that his future depended on. Then he would know. Because there was only one way to interpret the additional document I had inserted into my bag in the middle of the night.
When Angelo got up and dressed, I breathed in a lungful of courage and spoke.
“You should take your guitar, and if you brought any others yesterday, take them, too. And tools and stuff.”
Angelo was buttoning his shirt and now looking at me. “Okay,” he said with a question mark at the end.
I let my words sink in.
“June.” He took a few steps toward me. I was standing, ready, by the sofa that hadn’t been used as a bed in a few days.
My breath shallowed. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen after the interview, and I want to make sure we prepare for every scenario.”
“What scenarios did you list? That we fail, and they arrest us?” he joked. His beautiful smile was a pang in my heart.
“We’re not going to fail.”
He was about to put his hands on my biceps.
I shifted so he wouldn’t. “Angelo, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”
“You’re not telling me the truth again, June.”
I breathed out and buried my face in my hands, dragging my palms down until I clasped them against my lips prayer-like. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. Maybe the hardest. I had never purposefully made someone I loved go.
“We’ve been in a crazy loop. We went through something together. It bonds and changes things. And you … you’re wonderful, Angelo. More than I could …” I stopped and inhaled. Enumerating the ways he was wonderful would derail me from my aim. “But I think that if you go back to your life, and I go back to mine, things, including what we feel …” I stammered. “It will eventually all go back to normal, too. You said that I avoid saying what I really want and asked me to tell you what I needed. So, as much as …” I sucked in my lip. “I think we both need to take a step back. That’s what I want.”
“That’s what you want? To go back tonormal?” He stressed the last word by slightly dipping his head.
I bit on my upper lip and nodded. I wouldn’t choose to go back to normal if I could have him forever, but since I didn’t think of that as a viable option, then yes, I preferred my old normal over crippling pain.
“And you think that with going back to my life, or whatever, I’ll forget you?”
Eventually, yes.
His jaw muscle twitched when I didn’t answer. “And you’ll forget me?” The pain in his eyes … I hated myself now more than he could ever hate me. Or maybe not.
I took a shaky breath. As shaky as my determination.
I wish I could forget you.
