Page 82 of A Bookish Story

He glances around my teeny-weeny living space, especially as compared to the condo we once shared, which actually had a separate dining and living area. And plenty of walls.

“Why are you staying in a shed?”

When he says it, he doesn’t sound much different from my mother. But in my mother’s case, and defense, she wasn’t responsible for it.

“There wasn’t much I could afford after I didn’t have your help with the rent and was left with all those cancellation fees for our wedding.”

The color drains out of his face and he covers his eyes, lowering his head.

“Damn, this is just one more example of my many failures. I’m going to pay you back for my half. And I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve been in a fever dream for months and I’m only now waking up.”

“Wow, Nadia must have sure cast a spell on you with her dark magic.” I snort.

It’s just like him to blame the woman.

“It wasn’t her. It had nothing to do with her in the end. The truth is I was afraid of dying.”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw marriage as the end of my youth. It was another stage, the one before I became a parent, and another step closer to death.”

This makes me snort-laugh. “Oh my God, you must be the most romantic person ever! When you think of me, think of death. That should be a Hallmark card. You’re the one who wanted to get married! I would have been fine going along the way things were.”

“I’ve been thinking about all this, while I spent all that time building orphanages. It was good for the soul. Gave me time to think. My parents put all this pressure on me, to accomplish things by their rigid timelines. I was supposed to get married by thirty. It was on their damn calendar like my college graduation! And of course, I love you, so it made sense for us to marry. It just felt at the time that the closer I got to marriage, the closer I got to death.”

“Um, gee, thanks?”

No wonder his proposal was so half-hearted. Seriously, at the gym? Yeah, I get that’s where we met, but clearly he put almost no thought or creativity into it. I neglected it at the time, thrilled someone wanted to marry me. The romance of it all held me in a tight grip. I thought Chris was The One. He hit all the markers. He was handsome, intelligent, funny, charming, great body, honest and loyal (I thought) and he said all the right things. Clearly I saw only what I wanted to see. Yes, we were complete opposites, but opposites attract. It was, however, simply difficult to live with him. Eventually, we judged our differences. While I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see how wrong we were together. As a romance writer, I was too in love with the idea of being in love.

“I screwed up big time. Please forgive me and give me another chance.” Chris drops to his knees and clasps his hands prayer-like.

I can’t believe this guy and his idea of romance. Begging and desperation after he just revealed I remind him of death.

“Get up. This is silly.”

Instead of getting up, Chris goes all in. He covers his face with his hands and does something I’ve never seen him do before, not even the time our cat died.

He cries.

It’s far more effective than I would have imagined. He looks so pitiful kneeling there, the sobs echoing around the uninsulated shed. An ache forms for this man I loved at one time. It’s not his fault his parents had such incredibly strict guidelines for him. And he’d joined the Peace Corps. Even if it was to follow a woman-crush, he’d done that, and put himself through the conditions of living in a third-world country. I’d never seen him as a snob or I wouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place.

Tears spring to my eyes and I gently pat his head like I would a young child. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not fair but…I just can’t believe what I lost because I was too stupid to realize what I had.” He glances up at me, his eyes red. “I don’t deserve it, I know I don’t, but please say you’ll give me another chance. I’ll do anything.”

It seems cruel in his state to outright reject him even if he deserves it. Funny how when the pain you wished on someone actually happens, it doesn’t feel good. It’s not satisfying. Revenge, I’m sorry to say, does not taste sweet. Or maybe I’m just a grown-up now.

I’ve always believed in second chances. It’s one of my favorite tropes for a reason. But I can only think about Ryan, his soulful eyes, and the way his lock of hair continually falls over his glasses.

I want to be done with Chris. It is true we didn’t get closure. He just took off and left me with everything to handle on my own. I’m in this shed because of him. Then again, I met Ryan because of him and all these changes, too. Now I have this opportunity I might have never had otherwise. I see what Ryan meant when he forgave his ex for contacting his agent without his permission. It led him to an amazing book he wouldn’t have written otherwise. Then, I might never have met Ryan Brady. Maybe this all happened for a reason, though when it comes to Chris, I know I’m being generous.

Chris leaving showed I don’t need a relationship for the sake of one. I proved that I could do hard things. It showed me the person I need most in my life is myself. And I’ve always had her.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Really?”

His voice is laced with the faith of a child and I want to tell him not to get his hopes up because Santa isn’t real. He can’t bring you everything you want just because you asked for it. It doesn’t work that way.