I leaned against the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, whether from anger or something else, I couldn’t tell. The bathroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the ventilation fan.
What were we doing? What was I doing?
I touched my lips, remembering the way she’d kissed me, the way her hands had felt on my skin just minutes ago. The way she looked at me like she never wanted to let me go.
But then she’d gone ahead to spoil it all by mentioning Chukwuma. She’d thrown my future engagement in my face like it was some kind of shield against whatever this was between us.
Wasn’t it, though?
When had I last thought about Chukwuma without feeling obligated to? I’ve never even wanted him the way I want Marley… never even had the crazy and nasty thoughts of him the way I did with Marley.
I looked at myself in the mirror, taking note of how my hair was slightly mussed from lying on the couch, my lips still a little swollen from our earlier kisses. I looked like someone who’d been thoroughly loved.
But what was I exactly? What were we?
We weren’t girlfriends. We’d never defined it. We just… existed in this space between friendship and something more, something that made my chest tight and my thoughts scattered. Something that made me want to stay in Canada forever, with her forever, and it made me terrified of what that wanting meant.
I had deep feelings for her, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. Marley made me come alive. She’s added light to my very grey, performative life and now…
But maybe she was right. Maybe I was just kidding myself. Maybe this was just a phase, something to explore before I went back to my real life, my planned life.
A tear trickled down my cheek, and I broke down in tiny sobs, unsure of how to put myself back together.
XVI
“My alone feels so good, I’ll only have you if you’re sweeter than my solitude.”
— Warsan Shire
Chapter Seventeen
Marley
I stood frozen in the living room, staring at the spot where Kelechi had been just seconds ago. The silence pressed against my eardrums until it actually hurt. A door clicked shut somewhere down the hall.
My hand dragged through my hair as I paced to the window and back. I’d really fucked this up. I’d taken the most beautiful moment we’d shared and poisoned it with my own fear.
The second she’d asked about settling down, about having a wife and kids, panic had clawed up my throat. Because sitting there with her legs draped across my lap, breathing in her scent, I could picture it. All of it. Waking up next to her, making coffee together, arguing about whose turn it was to do dishes, and building something real and lasting and beautiful.
And that terrified me more than anything.
So I’d done what I always did when things got too real, too close. I’d pushed. I’d reminded both of us why this couldn’t work, why she’d leave eventually anyway. Better to rip the bandage off now than wait for the inevitable disappointment.
Except for the look on her face when I’d mentioned her soon-to-be fiancé.
Christ. It looked like I had physically struck her.
Verdammt, I was such a coward.
I moved toward the bedroom, then stopped outside the bathroom door. Soft, broken sounds leaked through the wood, making my chest cave in. She was crying, and it was all because of me. Because I’d been too scared to just stay in that moment with her, too afraid to believe that maybe, for once, someone apart from my best friend and family might actually choose me.
I pressed my palm against the door, wishing I could rewind the last ten minutes. Wishing I could go back to her hands in my sweater, her lips against mine, the way she had looked at me.
“K?” My voice came out rough.
There was no answer, just those quiet sobs that were tearing me apart.
I knocked gently. “Princess?” I knocked again. “Can we talk?”
