That deep blue gaze of his bores into me, compelling me to hear more than he’s saying with his words. “I do want you to be happy, Gem. I want you to be so fucking happy. You’re my best friend. You’re my…everything.” A pause. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”
“Known what?” Not sure why my voice came out so wispy, but I appreciate him not commenting on it. His gaze does drop to my lips for a second. Felt that in places I’d rather not.
“That no one else will make you as happy as I can. No one comes close to you and me.”
I’m pretty sure his two minutes is up, if the flutter of my heartbeat is the timer, it’s telling me we’re way past the allotted beats for this visit. I don’t stop him from continuing. Would you?
“I’m—fuck, Gem. I’m sorry it took me this long to see it. I was so blinded by the status quo of what we had that I didn’t see what wecould’vehad all this time. But you always knew, didn’t you?”
It’s my turn to drop my line of sight, and I make a real chore out of inspecting that shitty carpet. Don’t look back up until I’ve found both the shapes of both GroguandTony Hawk within the fibers. I think his eyes are gleaming when I catch them again, or maybe that’s just mine?
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking of everything you said to me recently. It was brutal, but I needed to hear it.” He nods to himself, reassuring himself, I think. “I haven’t been the friend you’ve deserved. Nowhere near the man you need by your side. But I promise you, I will get there.” The determination in his eyes with that line alone would buckle my knees if my weight weren’t being supported by this couch right now.
I’ve yet to say more than those two words to him. My keys are still clutched in my right hand, the imprint will probably be there for a week. Somehow that’s what I’m focusing on right now, the way the metal feels, pressed tightly against my flesh. How it’s giving me something to hold onto, to keep me from running and jumping onto the man I love, despite all the reasons not to.
I swallow heavily, giving him permission to continue with a single nod. Not sure I could form words right now if I tried. No idea how to even process what he’s saying to me, I just want to absorb every syllable leaving his mouth, make a gold-pressed vinyl recording of it in my mind, and play that 45 back on repeat for the rest of my life. I could die happy as long as it was the soundtrack to my death.
“I, uh…” He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before gathering his thoughts and continuing. “Idon’twant to ruin your chances at being happy, Gem. I promise. But I do want you to break up with him.”
He doesn’t keep going until my eyes meet his again. “He’s not the one for you.”
I amechoes throughout the silence in the room, louder than the words he just spoke.
“I’m gonna put the work in. I’m gonna make all the shit I put you through up to you. Somehow. I promise you, Gem. Just…” One of his hands comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just please don’t shut me out along the way.” He tilts his head, staring straight into everything I am and then whispering, “I don’t like who I am when you’re not in my life.” He clears his throat, and his voice sounds normal when he speaks again. “We aren’t meant to be apart, you and me. I see that now.”
He stands, apparently not expecting me to do anything other than stare (gape is more like it), and that’s when I notice that he’s got something gold pinched in his first two fingers.
“Thanks for listening,” he says quietly, with a calm certainty and appreciation that’s been missing from his tone for…longer than I can recall at the drop of a hat.
Aaron makes his way through my small living space, pausing for just a second in front of me to give me a sad little half smile. He leans in, his spicy scent overtaking my senses, his warmth impossible to ignore, and that fucking tugging in my stomach turns into a soaring. His hands land on my arms, his lips press against the side of my head, into my hair, and he lets them linger for just a second before pulling back.
I hear a smallclinknoise from the foyer, and a small panic rushes through me when I hear the unmistakable sounds of the door opening.
“I broke up with him.” My voice is groggy, grainy, hardly audible, but I know he heard me. His reaction to those words is tangible in a way that a thought, an intake of breath from someone else shouldn’t be. But I feel it. I feel thathefelt it.
The door closes, and I exhale a heavy breath. My lungs feel impossibly light. The oppressive, suffocating weight of hating my best friend, while not really hating him at all, is finally lifting.
And I know we have a long way to go, but for the first time since you’ve been following our story, I think I can see us getting there.
My feet move numbly, one after the other, to the front door, to lock up behind him, as I didn’t hear that telltaleclick, and as I approach the entryway, I see why.
On the little side table of my foyer, right by the wall I broke down against not twenty-four hours ago, the broken frame still resting there, sits Aaron’s key to my place. Gold, not particularly tarnished, hardly used. A promise to respect my wishes, my space, my privacy.
When I go to pick it up, to inspect it, the warmth seeps through my skin and I relish the contact on my skin with something I can still feel him on.
That’s when I realize there’s another key under it.
One that’s alotmore timeworn, a lot less shiny.
The one that lived on my ring for the last six-plus years.
Step one in Aaron’s handbook to winning Gemma over, was apparently to give me the space I asked for.
Step two? To make sure he didn’t put any more between us.
I know I have a lot to still hate him for. But that shell around my heart is already cracking, already letting him back in.
I add a layer of mortar, seal it up good. I’m not entertaining those too-good-to-be things that he said until I can trust him with my heart. Until myheadsays it’s safe to. And that bitch? Is a lot harder to crack.
