“We didn’t eventrylong distance the first time, Lili. We were just kids. We had no idea how to handle each other then.”
“And now we’re adults, and our lives are so much more complicated. I honestly don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand another heartbreak. I need to be functional, and I will not be functional if you break my heart. There’s too much at stake.”
Reid is searching for me, trying to make eye contact. I know he wants me to face him head-on, but I can’t do it. A door has shut inside of me.
“I want to be with you now,” Reid is saying. “Believe me, I understand how scary it feels to embark on something like this at this stage in life, with everything we’ve lost. But have some faith in my feelings for you, OK?”
“Why would I have faith in that?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “We loved each other then, when we were young and free and had nothing other than distance getting in the way. And you still left.Istill left. What makes you think we can make this work now?”
Reid runs a hand through his hair. I know he’s trying to stay patient, but his voice rises in pitch, frustration cracking his facade. “Yes, and you think I haven’t considered that? That I haven’t spent the last thirty years thinking about you, looking for you in other people? Wishing that I’dtried harder to hold on to you when I had the chance? So I think”—his hands drop to his lap—“I think we make this work because wehaveto, Lili. We have to try.”
Hearing him say this makes me panic more. His confidence, maybe. That he seems so buoyed when I feel like I’m drowning. So I start swimming harder against the current, because I don’t know what else to do.
“I don’t know why you would trust me,” I say. “I chose James, and that was a disaster. Iknewit was a disaster, and it still took me years to get out of it. What if I’m the problem? What if I’m just not equipped to be in a relationship?”
Reid takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks tired, wrung out. “I’m sorry for what you went through with James, and I have to assume you contributed to the problems in that relationship. Because that’s how relationships work. But I’m not him.You’renot only ever going to be who you were in that marriage.”
“I have a proven track record of mishandling relationships, and I don’t want you to become collateral damage. Or Gracie. Or Emme, yet again.”
“Didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want fear to rule your decisions anymore?”
“There’s a fine line between fear and intuition.” I dig my heels in, unwilling, unable to stop myself. “Maybe we do try this, and six months from now, you decide that it’s too complicated, orI’mtoo complicated, and we realize that this was just a fantasy that was never meant to be real. Maybe the smarter choice is to stop now, before we hurt each other again.”
I’m being cruel now, and I know it. Reid’s face changes, and I can see him trying to process how we got here so fast.
“Hold on.” He shifts in the bed like he can’t get comfortable. “How did we go from talking about plane tickets to you deciding this is doomed?”
“I’m being realistic,” I say.
“You’re spiraling.”
I let out an exasperated laugh. “We can’t even have a conversation about logistics without falling apart.”
“Because we’re not talking about logistics!” Reid snaps back. He stands abruptly and moves across the room, leaning in front of the window, like he needs to physically distance himself from this situation. From me. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, more intense. “You’re scared, and instead of being honest about it, you’re talking yourself out of this before we’ve even started.”
His words hit me like a slap. I know he’s right. Someone is finally seeing me clearly, and despite that—because of that—he’s deemed me worth the risk. Iamscared of how much I want this, and how easily I’m able to sabotage it.
And doesn’t that prove my point exactly? “I’m trying to consider what’s best for everyone involved,” I say, and I can hear how righteous I sound. “Not just follow my feelings off a cliff.”
Reid stares at me for a long moment. “Nothing I’ve said has gotten through to you. Right now, it doesn’t seem like anything will.”
His resignation stops me cold. He’s giving me an out, exactly like I asked for. But now that I have it, the victoryfeels like a fistful of fool’s gold. I’d thought it was worth something to me, but now I can see its cheap sparkle, feel its flimsy weight.
“Reid, I—”
“Lili, just... stop.” There’s something dejected in his voice that I haven’t heard before. “You win. You’re right. This might just be too complicated to navigate, and I’m not going to beg you to try.”
I look at him now, the way defeat sits in the hollows of his cheekbones and the heavy set of his shoulders, like they’re bearing a persistent weight. Clarity pierces me: I got my way, I found my escape hatch, and now it’s like I’m in a free fall. Now I would beg him to forget the words I said that made him look like this. But I see on his face that I’ve pushed too hard, made too big a mess of this. I can’t take it all back now. Can’t make him believe me.
Ultimately, my fear and exhaustion overtake my regret. I get out of bed and dress in the bathroom, my hands shaking as I put on my clothes. I catch my reflection in the mirror—my swollen mouth, my smudged mascara—then quickly look away.
I sit on the edge of the bath, holding on to Reid’s T-shirt. The fabric is soft from years of wear and washing. It smells like the essence of him. I press it into my face, then draw it away. What right do I have to seek solace in him, even this small part?
None. Not after what I just did.
I should go back out there, I think.I should try to make this right.
But then: Shouldn’t I trust the instinct that warned me to pump the brakes? The thought surfaces like a life raft. Weweremoving too quickly. Getting too wrapped up in the idea of what we might be without thinking clearly about the reality.
