My throat constricts with emotion. After my conversation with Harriet I’ve come to see Michael was right about my parents, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But seeing the anguish on his face now, I feel the anger I’ve been keeping stored inside dissipate, like the mist from our breath in the freezing air.
“I should never have told you to give up the column. I was way out of line and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel like I wasn’t taking your writing seriously. Because Idotake it seriously, and Idocare about what matters to you.”
The sincerity in his eyes sends a tiny ripple of that familiar warm sensation through me; the one I felt when things were good with us, when he made me feel understood. But now it’s bittersweet, because everything is different.
“And you were right about me needing to stand up to Melanie,” Michael continues, his gaze sliding down to his hands. “I let her push me around for so long because I was afraid that Henry would get caught between us, but what you said was right. I don’t want him to see me as a coward.” His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, and his jaw tightens. It’s then that I realize he’s holding back tears.
My heart squeezes and I know I have to say something or I’m going to burst. “I wasn’t trying to say you’re a bad father. I know Mel says that and she makes you feel awful but, truly, I think you’re a great dad. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you aren’t.”
His gaze meets mine. “I know. I was just angry. Not even atyou—at Melanie, for making everythingsodifficult, all the time. And I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. But you arenothinglike her,” he says fiercely. His eyes roam my face and his expression softens. “Because, despite what you think, Idoknow you.”
I give him a slow, sad nod, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes. Seeing him now, hearing his words… I really want to believe him. I want to get back to that place where I felt so seen and so safe with him, where I believed everything would work out. But I don’t know how.
“Melanie told me she spoke to Justin,” Michael says. “I’m sorry if you lost the job because of me. I never intended for that to happen. I shouldn’t have pushed you to be with me.”
There’s a sharp pain in my heart. How could he say that? He never pushed me to be with him. I wanted all of it—all ofhim.I still do. I open my mouth to say as much but the words lodge in my throat. How do I say that after I told him I was choosing my writing instead? What could make up for that? And worse—what if, after everything, he doesn’t want me anymore?
I force myself to meet his gaze. “I didn’t lose the job.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.” I’m quiet for a moment, then I draw a wobbly breath. “Michael, you were right. The column… I was doing it for the wrong reasons, and you could obviously see that when I couldn’t. I told Justin I don’t want to write about being single and he’s given me something else. And, even though it was hard to hear, you were right about my parents, too. I need to let go of what they think.”
“Yeah, but…” He grimaces. “I should never have said it the way I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”
I give a little nod, searching his sad eyes. How could I have thought this man didn’t know me, didn’t support me? I’m desperate to find some words, to find a way to ask him if there’s any chance—
“Anyway,” he mumbles, staring down at the sidewalk, “I just… I had to come and apologize. I didn’t want to end things like that.”
End things.
The words ring in my ears, so final, and my heart drops into my stomach.
“My life is too complicated. It—” His voice catches and he stops, swallowing hard. “It wasn’t fair to ask you to get involved with all that.”
I wrench my gaze away, trying to ignore the pain ripping through me. Fuck, if I thought it hurt being away from him, I was wrong. Having him right here—and knowing he’s given up on me, onus—hurts so much I can’t breathe.
And now we’re just standing woodenly across from each other, separated by a thick wall of regret. He’s said his piece and I know I should go, but I can’t bring myself to walk away from him. So I say the only thing I can think of.
“I’m going to do something with my romance novel.”
Michael’s brow lifts. “Oh, wow. What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” I stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “I’ll try submitting it to some literary agents, see if anyone is interested.” I shiver, watching my breath come out in a cloud in front of me in the cold night air. I’d give anything to step forward into Michael’s arms right now, to snuggle into the warmth of him, to have his touch soothe and comfort me. But I know I can’t.
I clear my throat. “How’s Henry?”
“He’s good. Keeps asking about you.” A ghost of a smile passes over Michael’s mouth and my heart cracks right down the middle. I try to look away but I can’t; I just keep staring at Michael, silently begging him to say something to fix it all, something to give me the tiniest drop of hope. But he isn’t going to, because life isn’t a fairy tale and things don’t work out when you fuck them up this badly.
I can’t believe I was so stupid to ruin this. This whole time I thought he didn’t understand me, didn’t care about my writing, and now that I know I was wrong I just want to sob. Sharp, bitter misery slices through me, splintering my heart, and I tear my gaze from his as my vision blurs.
“I have to go,” I mutter. I can’t stand here for another second, pretending to have a normal conversation when my ribcage is crushing my lungs in despair.
He stiffens in front of me. “Alex—”
“Goodbye, Michael,” I say, my voice strangled with tears. I don’t let myself look at him again as I turn on my heel and trudge away. As soon as I’m around the corner, the dam bursts and the tears spill down my cheeks.
45
