Gabriel's confession leaves me breathless, and I'm drowning in a sea of confusion and pain. What does he mean? He can’t really mean that, can he? He doesn’t even want us to be friends?
He’s just upset, right?
Everything is going to be okay.
Desperation climbs up my throat. He can’t walk away. Not like this.
“I know I messed up,” I tell him. “I made a mistake.” I close the distance between us again. Gabriel’s angry and hurt. He’s not thinking straight. If I can just get through to him. Show him thatI’m not going anywhere. He has me. I’m right here and I’m not letting go. Not in his time of need.
I reach for his face and turn it toward me. His eyes refuse to meet mine, but that’s okay.
I trace his jawline with my fingers, caress the stubble on his skin. “Today is really shitty,” I whisper. His mouth hovers only a few inches away from mine. “But it’s going to be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you?—”
Gabriel's eye finally lock on mine, offering me a window into the turmoil inside of him. His touch is agonizingly tender as he reaches up to thumb away a tear from my cheek.
“You were right before” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
Relief sweeps through me. He’s listening. We’re going to be okay. “We're just two broken people, and broken people can’t fix anyone else. They need to fix themselves.”
No. No. No.
I reach up and press my lips against his, hoping it makes him feel something. Anything. It’s fucked up and not okay. I keep telling myself to make up my mind. That I can’t continue leading him on like this. But what do I do the moment he threatens to walk away?
I kiss him.
I don’t know what else to do. All I know is this desperate achy feeling spreading through my chest, screaming at me not to let him walk away. I can’t lose Gabriel. Not like this.
Gabriel doesn’t kiss me back.
His body is rigid. His hands keep me firmly in place. I fall back to my feet and tear my eyes away.
It hurts. Seeing him closed off like this. I open my mouth to protest, to deny his words and the chasm I feel opening up between us, but nothing comes out.
My words catch in my throat like thorns, and I'm left speechless, suffocating from the pain that steadily builds inside of me.
I’ve really lost him. This is it. The final nail in the coffin.
Tears blur my vision, and I try to blink them away, but they overflow, trailing down my face in rivulets that I know are ruining my makeup. I can’t find it in me to care. My chest feels like it’s breaking, like my ribs are being cracked open and my heart is being shredded within its depths.
Gabriel’s thumb gently brushes against my cheek, and his touch is both a comfort and a torment. I … I don’t want to lose him.
Why did it take this very moment for me to realize that?
"I think I will always love you, Cecilia Russo," he whispers, and my heart splinters more. "But?—"
"No!" I choke out, my voice raw with anguish. "No.” My lungs heave with each of my breaths. “I was wrong. I—" I was so wrong. He can’t agree with me. He just can’t. Things will get better. We’ll be better. He can’t?—
Choking on a sob, I find myself wrapped in Gabriel's arms, held close against his chest, my cries resonating against him. The fabric of his dress shirt soaks up my tears as if it can absorb the pain I feel.
My fingers clutch at him, desperate to hold on, to keep him from slipping away.
"You weren't wrong," he murmurs against my hair. His voice is steady, but his hold on me tightens. "We can't keep pretending that we can fix each other. That being together alone can make either one of us whole. And I can’t pretend I’m okay only being your friend. I’m not. I don’t want this.”
“We can try," I cry harder into his chest. “You said that you loved me. Why won’t you try being my friend?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer him more. To beg for him to take me back, but it wouldn’t be right. Not like this.
Gabriel tilts my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. The anger has receded, leaving only tenderness and regret in his gaze. “Love isn't enough, baby girl,” he says, his voice heavy with remorse. “I wish it was, but it just isn’t. And we …” He hesitates. “We need to heal. We need space.” He throws my own words from before back at me.
