That could be possible. But there was more.
“What about my job? What do you think he would say about me leaving?”
What would I say? The idea of leaving my job made my skin itch. Losing the security it offered was never an option.
Could it be now? I didn’t know. As I looked around the expansive room, it felt as though the walls were closing in on me. A bead of sweat dripped between my breasts.
“Hey,” Chase said. “Mare. This is all good stuff. I don’t want this to be something that stresses you out, OK?”
I stood. I needed to stand.
I needed to move. As I walked to the windows and glanced out over Central Park, it unfortunately didn’t help much. It only seemed to further drive home the point that Chase and I came from such different backgrounds. Walking away from his job wasn’t an issue.
Unlike me.
“Um, I…” My words came out stuttered when I couldn’t find the right ones. Looking around, I saw my coat and purse on the couch. “I have to go.”
Throwing on my shoes and coat, I got to the elevator as I heard him following behind me. I pressed the button as he spun me around.
When he looked at me, his eyes turned down. He dropped his hands from my arms and stepped back.
He was giving me space.
He was giving me control.
The cold air on my face and in my lungs helped the moment I stepped outside. Crossing the street into the park, I found a bench and sat. My mind was blank as I surveyed my surroundings. The sky was a bright blue with puffy white clouds. The chill of winter hung on, but signs of spring fought to show themselves. Tiny patches of fresh green grass grew in clumps along the edge of the walkways. The songs of the birds were loud and vibrant.
I pulled out my phone and went right to Evie’s number. My finger hovered over the keys to type out a text to her. For confirmation on what I should do with the rest of my life.
But then I shoved my phone back in my pocket.
Tears of anger and frustration welled up, threatening to spill over as I hid my face in my hands. A solitary tear fell onto the pants I wore.
Chase’s pants.
“Jesus Christ, what am I doing?” I said to myself.
Chase was acting more mature than I was. Instead of sticking around to talk, the almost thirty-year-old skipped out on the conversation.
The change in him has been tremendous in the past weeks as we’ve worked on us as a couple. Me, not so much. If we were going to make this relationship work, I needed to step up my game.
We had a big decision to make. It was not the time to walk away or disappear.
But I did walk away. I deserted him.
Just as his mother had.
He watched me walk away and didn’t stop me. He was OK with it.
But I wasn’t. My heart ached in my chest for what I’d just done to him. The broken look on him as I walked out should have been enough to keep me there.
Why wasn’t it?
He had proven he loved me regardless of my insecurities, all my issues. To walk away from that was insanity. Especially considering how hard we’ve worked to get to where we are.
The disappointment I had for myself was insurmountable.
Talking to my friends, or anyone other than Chase, about a decision that pertained to us was not the answer.
