I stare at the screen.
“She’s so beautiful, Anders.”
He releases a quiet sigh and takes his phone from me.
“I think I would have liked her.”
He nods. “She would have liked you too.”
She certainly wouldn’t like me if she knew how I feel about her husband. I understand entirely why Kelly is so furious—she’s defending her daughter because her poor daughter can’t defend herself.
My heart contracts as my resolve stiffens. I need to do the right thing. I’ve already caused so much pain to Laurie’s family—and to Anders too, which is the very last thing I wanted to do. I’m not so selfish that I’d choose to make their lives even more complicated and upsetting.
“Oh,” Anders says suddenly, abruptly getting up from the sofa and leaving me feeling cold without his body heat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten since yesterday?” He looks over his shoulder at me and I shake my head.
“I dropped by the Rathskeller on my way home. Got you those loaded fries and pretzels.”
I sit there in a daze as I hear him opening and closing the microwave, setting it, the clinking of plates and glasses and cutlery. And I want to stay, but my entire body feels racked with pain because I’ve just fallen in love with him a little bit more and if I don’t go now, I’m not sure I’ll ever find the strength.
I force myself from the sofa. I force myself to walk into the bedroom. I force myself to pick up my belongings. And I force myself to make my way through the living room to the kitchen, where he has his back to me, upending the fries into a bowl on the far counter. And this is so much harder than it was to walk into Laurie’s house and face her mother, her father,her.Thisis the single most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.
“Anders,” I say quietly.
He turns around, sees me standing there with my bag, and looks utterly crestfallen.
“Please don’t go.”
“I have to,” I reply.
Fresh tears shine in his eyes. Maybe he thinks that I’m walking away because it’s too hard forme, because I’m so insecure that I feel threatened by his beautiful wife or that I simply can’t handle his terrible circumstances. He probably has no idea that I’m leaving because I don’t want to be yet another burden to him.
It doesn’t really matter what he thinks. The important thing is that I go.
Tears begin to spill from his eyes and he shakes his head imploringly. I mean to step away, but he steps toward me before I can make my feet move, sliding my bag off my shoulder to the floor. He cups my face with his hands and stares into my eyes, anguished, silently asking me not to leave.
I slowly reach up and brush my thumb across his cheekbone and down the side of his face. His skin is warm and his stubble is rough, and I find myself smiling as I stare into his grief-stricken eyes, my vision going blurry.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, blinking to free my tears. “We’ll always be friends, right? If you’ll still have me?”
He swallows. And then he nods, letting me go and lowering his head.
I step away, pick up my bag, and walk out the door.
36
Last night I dreamed that I was at Anders’s apartment. I was sitting on his Eames chair in the sunroom, warmth and light spilling onto my face from the giant Crittall windows. I could hear Anders in the kitchen, making dinner, and it occurred to me with a surge of joy that I lived there, that it wasourapartment, that he and I were together. Then I looked down at my stomach and saw a bump and felt such a flood of love for the baby we were having together.
I woke up with a start and stared into the darkness for a long time afterward, my heart galloping wildly as I tried to shut out that perfect vision of an impossible future.
But is it impossible?I wonder as I lie awake now.How long would I be willing to wait for him?
I feel an intense rush of longing for the child in my dream. I was ready to start a family with Scott. How many years could theoretically go by, with me putting my life on hold? Would I be too old to have a baby? How much would I be willing to sacrifice, torisksacrificing, to be with Anders? Wouldn’t it be better for me to move on, to get over him, and hope that the real love of my life is just around the corner?
I feel heartsick at the thought of that person being anyone but him.
It doesn’t help, being here. I know I can’t possibly take the job Dean offered me, not now. When I fly back to England next weekend, it will be to stay. The thought brings with it a fresh wave of pain, not because I’m finally going home, but because I’m leaving. I fled the UK to put some distance between Scott and me and now I’m fleeing America to escape Anders.
One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. The most pressing thing right now is getting through movie night tonight.
