Well, I guess that makes the choice easy enough. I suppose easy isn’t the right word. I hate that I’m about to hurt him. I know that he’s probably expecting this since, to him, it’s been an inevitability. I reply right away, asking him to give me twenty minutes to get back to the hotel, and I get a thumbs up in return. After thanking the driver, I head inside, thankful that no one from the team is in the lobby. Making small talk is high on my list of things I’d rather not do right now. I nod in acknowledgement at the woman behind the reception desk and make my way to the wall of elevators.
In the privacy of my room, on the top floor of the hotel, I allow myself a moment to breathe before I call Jasper. Eyeing the king-size bed with the ornate wooden headboard, a vision of Harlan sprawled out springs to mind. “Jesus Christ, Darío. Get your shit together.” Obviously, that does nothing to stop the image of him in a lace jockstrap and thigh-high stockings. You know, exactly the type of shit one should be thinking about before they break up with someone else.
I settle on the bed and dial Jasper’s number. His sweet face fills my screen moments later, and I notice he’s in bed, too. “Hi,” he says, and smiles. I take a moment to appreciate how beautiful this man is. How genuine and kind. He’s free with affection and compliments and compassionate to a fault.
“Hey, Jas.” I give him a small smile in return, but it doesn’t meet my eyes. Guilt is eating away at me, my foot tapping nervously against the bed. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, I just got back from dinner. Is everything ok? You look like you’ve been crying.” His voice is uncertain, and thesmile that was there is gone.It’s your fault, Darío. You did this to him.
I look past the screen, at the wall above the dresser. I owe it to him to look him in the eye, but fuck, this is harder than I thought. “I ran into Harlan tonight,” I tell him before I pause. “Nothing happened, and I need you to know that. I would never do that to you. I promised you honesty, so I needed to tell you this.”
I’m met with silence, and I watch a range of emotions play out in his eyes before he speaks. “I know you wouldn’t, Darío, but you’re making me nervous. It feels like you’re about to break things off with me. Are you getting back together with him?” His face is neutral, but I can hear the hurt in his voice. I hate myself for causing that.
“No, I’m not getting back together with him. The circumstances with him are still the same. I just realized when I was speaking to him that I’m not in the right headspace to be in a relationship, and it’s not fair to you. I can’t string you along while I’m still healing, and I can’t be all in. You deserve someone who can be all in,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t even be mad at you. I’m mad at myself for not just ending things. I said this would happen, you know? Despite everything you said about not letting your past get in the way of us, he was getting in the way all along. I saw it in the little things, and I just kept waiting, hoping that I would eventually be enough for you. That’s embarrassing, huh?” He inhales a jagged breath before he continues. “Do the next guy a favor, and just don’t,” he bites out.
“Jasper, I really am sorry.” I won’t explain to him that I was trying, that I didn’t mean to let Harlan ruin this thing. That I wanted so badly to fall in love with him, because I knew that my heart would be safe with him. The problem is, my heart wasn’t mine to give.
He doesn’t reply right away, instead switching his video off. I hear him take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too,” he replies. “Good luck, Darío.” Jasper ends the call before I can say anything more. I exhale an unsteady breath, knowing I did the right thing for Jasper and for myself. He does deserve someone who will love him well—I just can’t be that person for him, no matter how much I try.
The restof the weekend in San Francisco felt like an eternity. Now that I’m on a plane home to London, I feel like I can breathe and really dissect my feelings. It’s not like there’s much else to do when we’re up in the clouds. Oliver was so understanding of the whole run-in with Dare, even holding me all night while I cried. It probably makes me an arsehole that I sought comfort in him, but short of getting on a plane and heading home, I had nowhere else to go.
When we got back to his apartment that night, Oliver asked if I wanted to keep seeing him. I swore to him I did, and I do. I couldn’t keep holding on to my past. I need to allow myself a chance to move on, and Oliver is offering me that chance. His words play on repeat between the conversation with Darío. The way that he assured me it was ok to feel however I was feeling, and that it made sense that I still loved Dare.
I immediately got defensive. “I don’t still…” I started to deny it, and he brushed a finger across my lips. The truth of the matter is, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop loving him.
“You don’t have that type of reaction if you don’t still love someone, Harlan. I knew going into this that you were still working through whatever happened. I’m not going to push you to choose me. We can keep seeing each other when we’re able to and see where it goes. Or you can take your flight back to London and tell me that you aren’t interested in dating.” He kissed my forehead while rubbing soothing circles on my back.
“I don’t want to love him anymore,” I cried. “I just want it to stop hurting so fucking much.” It shouldn’t be this hard when I have this wonderful man holding me, supporting me, and giving me everything that I need to feel stable in this relationship. Oliver just continued to rub my back.
“Healing takes time, baby,” he whispered against my hair. “You’ll get there—wherever ‘there’ is—when you’re ready.” I fell asleep with tears still streaming down my cheeks. It’s a wonder he didn’t pack my shit and drop me off at the airport that night. I would have deserved it for the mixed signals I was waving all over the place.
We spent the rest of our time sightseeing and hanging out on his terrace with tea. I told him he’d make a good Brit with how often he made tea. We didn’t talk about the night at the festival again, but there was a shift in our dynamic. Whether it was me or him that did it is unclear. Oliver remained attentive and affectionate, and we spent quite a bit of time kissing, but didn’t take it further than that. When I tried to apologize at the airport, he shushed me with a sweet kiss and a promise that I wasn’t going to lose him.
I decline food when the flight attendant comes through with the trolley of meals, because my appetite is nonexistent. I also decline alcohol, since drinking on an empty stomach on a long flight is definitely a terrible idea. When I finally fall asleep, I’m met with Darío in my dreams. Instead of replaying the conversation from the other night, I keep seeing his face as Itell him I cheated on him. The utter devastation on his face when he hears the words breaks my heart over and over. I wake with unshed tears pooling in my eyes as the plane descends in London.
I hurry through baggage reclaim, desperate to see my best friend. The moment she’s in reach, I collapse in her arms. “Babes, you look like shit,” she says affectionately. “Let’s get you home and in bed.” I had texted her about my run-in with Dare, but didn’t have a chance to go over the conversation in detail. I’m sure she’s eager for every word, but like the best bestie that she is, she doesn’t push as we make our way to the car park.
“I’m afraid that Oliver and I may not work,” I offer once we’re on the road and headed for my flat. Despite his constant reassurance, I can’t see how he’d want to continue to see me after that humiliating display of emotion. Part of me is terrified that I’ll never feel normal or truly happy ever again.
“How do you feel about that?” Pen asks as she slows to a stop at a junction. She’s adapted quite well to life in London, and it makes me wish she could stay with me forever. At this point, she’s more familiar with the streets than I am, since she’s taken to sightseeing on her own, or with friends from the office when I can’t go with her. I keep joking that she’ll start speaking with a British accent soon, but so far, she’s holding strong with her Brooklyn one.
“Like shit. He was so nice to me all weekend, even after I cried myself to sleep over my ex-boyfriend,” I say, embarrassment heating my cheeks at how much I cried in that man’s arms.
“Oliver is a decent guy, Lan. It’s not like you agreed to marriage and suddenly decided you wanted your ex back. After you’ve gotten some sleep, we can analyze your whole weekend. You’ll feel better once you’ve showered and slept in your own bed.” I don’t know how I’m going to survive without her whenshe goes back to Brooklyn. Where I’m an absolute nightmare as an adult, Penelope genuinely has her shit together.
I watch the rainy streets of London streak past my window. “God, it’s always so fucking rainy here.” Being back here just reminds me how much I miss Brooklyn. The number of sunrises I’ve missed on my morning runs because of the shit weather should be illegal. I live for the still moments right as the sun crests the horizon, where it feels like I’m the only one in the universe. It’s quiet and calm, and a reminder that each day is a new beginning.
“We had sun here twice while you were gone. The Brits were going insane,” she laughs. “I don’t know how they do it. I’m guessing it takes a lot of vitamin D.” Pen lives for gloomy days, though. She says it fits her ‘vibe,’ so maybe London is exactly where she’s meant to be.
“Speaking of D, did you get any while I was gone? I hope one of us was getting fucked properly this weekend.” I turn to see my best friend blushing. “Details, Penelope.” Her face flushes a deeper crimson, and she averts her eyes. “Good job you had the flat to yourself then,” I tease.
“After you’ve slept, I’ll spill all of the details,” she promises. She parks outside my flat as the rain goes from light drizzle to torrential downpour in a span of seconds. “Fucking hell!” With a shout, she runs from the car to the front door. I watch her with amusement before I grab my luggage from the back seat and race for the open door.
I strip my soaked clothes in the foyer, kicking my shoes off to the corner to dry. Briefly, I wonder if the rain will suffice in place of a proper shower. The time difference feels significant, and I’m grateful I took a couple of extra days off so I can get back to my normal routine. Primarily running. Oliver took me near the bay for a jog each morning at sunrise, but we didn’t go nearly as far as I’ve been used to these last few months. Running hasbeen one of the few things that keeps my head clear of noise and catastrophizing. Another tool in that handy toolbox.
Once I’m showered and dressed in a pair of L&L sleep shorts, I climb into my bed. The familiar smell of my fabric softener greets me as I bury my face into my pillow with a dramatic groan. I send a quick text to Oliver, letting him know that I’m home safe with a promise to call him soon. My to-do list runs through my head as I close my eyes: unpacking, washing, checking my work email. All of these things can wait until later, though.
