“Fine? What’s fine?”
“Stay, Bas. Stay here.”
“And you’ll stay?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hope she’d change her mind.
She shook her head. “I can’t uproot my whole life just to be with you. I can’t be that girl.”
My head rolled back. I closed my eyes and counted to eleven. I was torn between appeasing her and making a stand for something more, better for both of us. I never should have believed her copious professions of wanderlust when she showed me time and again how much she craved safety, familiarity, stability.
She still had a lot of growing up to do.
And I had commitments here now. I’d made actual promises I wasn’t going to break. She understood what that meant to me. I couldn’t change course just to prove I loved her. Either she believed me or she didn’t. I was done playing games.
Her breath shuddered out, and I wanted to wrap her in my arms, tell her we could still be friends, keep in touch long-distance, but that conversation would have to wait. And this conversation needed to end before I said anything I couldn’t take back.
“Come on.” I stood and held out a hand to help her up. “Let’s at least check out the sites. I don’t want to spend our remaining time fighting in a dilapidated apartment.”
She gave me one long, appraising look, and I wasn’t so sure about my assumption we could remain friends. It gutted me that I’d done the one thing I’d wanted to avoid: gain her trust only to break it. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever speak to me again after she got on that plane. But we’d come to the end of the line. This was where she had to finally take a leap of faith.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chelsea
Challenge: Forgive someone
Bas took me to see the Parthenon, and I shot selfies that made us look like everything was great, but I wasn’t speaking. What was there left to say? Bas had made decisions for my future without even asking me. Did he expect me to be overjoyed? To just chase after him because he dangled promises of travel like it was candy?
Still, he kept trying to spin some humor out of the situation, saying things like, “I’m Greeking out,” or “That temple is reallyruin-ing this view.”
I hated myself for laughing. I hated that he was making it hard to stay mad. He was making it impossible to say goodbye.
The irony was that he was right, in principle. Only a week ago, I’d been so lonely without him, I jumped in his car and ditched my best friend with barely a thought. A week ago, I’d been joking about moving to some remote town on the French Riviera. Because Bas was right: I did want the adventure. I did want to experience the world.
And I wanted itwith him.
But I balked at how he presumed. It scared me that he’d accepted the job and informed me of my options rather than the reverse. I’d thought we were a team. And the fact he was going to let me get on that plane alone meant he wouldn’t fight for us.
That was why I was so pissed.
When we got back to the hotel, he made use of the kitchen tocook me a real American cheeseburger and fries, and the taste of home nearly restored my soul. Greece was lucky to have him.
I’d cried myself to sleep, thinking back on the past three months with him. We’d crossed paths so often and so randomly, it was like destiny had a stake. But here, in Greece, the gods were taking sides, and we now found ourselves between Scylla and Charybdis.
The next morning, I dragged my grumpy self to his car only to be met by his cheery wave like the finality of the situation was no big deal. But he couldn’t hide his own emotional turmoil. His smile was drawn, and his eyes didn’t twinkle when he forced a laugh. As he loaded my suitcase into the trunk, he said, “It’s not too late to stay here.”
“It’s not too late to come with me,” I’d retorted. But it was. The flight was full. I’d checked. I was going home alone. At least Elizabeth would be there to greet me. We’d get drunk and commiserate over men. I’d tell her, “See? I was right all along.”
One thing was clear. Even if it was killing him to let me go, he wasn’t going to beg me to change my mind. And even though every step away from him felt like walking through quicksand, I wasn’t going to beg him to follow me.
He drove me to the Athens airport, attempting to lighten the tension with the kind of small talk I imagined a good father might make.Looks like clear skies. There shouldn’t be any flight delays. What the hell does that guy think he’s doing?You’ve got your passport, right?It annoyed me he could act like he wasn’t drop-kicking me out of his life.
But his charming monologue made it impossible to stay angry, and by the time we were waiting in line to check my bag, all I felt was a deep sorrow.
If I’d harbored any hopes Bas would surprise me by producing a last-minute ticket to join me, they died when he hefted my suitcase onto the divider and stood by as I gathered my traveldocuments.
The woman at the computer got a curious look on her face and turned to me. “Your luggage is buzzing.”
While people waited for us to move along, she opened my bag and discovered my vibrator, in the on position. Someone in the line behind me snorted, and I wanted the earth to swallow me.
