Page 69 of Your Pace Or Mine

For the past couple of days, I’ve been on autopilot. Getting my work done, checking the app out of habit, chatting with Seth as though everything is normal, but inside I’ve been a mess. I blame my dad, who hasn’t stopped blowing up my phone with his stupid photos. I’ve also had to provide emotional support to Sarah, but that’s mostly been a distraction from thinking about how things went down with Ashley.

She arrives right on time, looking dewy under her floral umbrella rather than waterlogged like everyone else in the bar. Her eyes seem brighter than usual. Was she crying? I need to stop looking at her, but it’s like turning away from the sun.

“I had hoped we’d go someplace more private,” she says with a grimace. The bar isn’t packed, but there’s a baseball game on TV and people milling around.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wait around in the rain. You know I’m vain like that—didn’t want to mess up my hair,” I joke, hoping to hide my inner turmoil. She doesn’t laugh. “There’s a free table in the corner.”

The waitress lets us move to the back. Ashley orders a cider while we look at the menu.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of getting nachos.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I can eat. I’m not in the mood for pub snacks. My head’s been off.”

I’ve rarely seen her so discombobulated. I’ve been assuming this is about me, but it’s possible I’m being a self-centered ass as usual. “Are you okay? Is something going on with your family?”

She shakes her head again and looks down with this shy smile.

Okay, maybe not.

We sit in awkward silence until her drink comes. Before I can raise my glass, she takes a large swig and says, “I have to say something, so please let me get it out.”

I sit back and watch her, wishing I could interrupt without being rude because I’m filled with dread.

“I can’t work on the app with you anymore,” she blurts out.

I keep my face impassive to hide my disappointment. It’s been fun collaborating, though I’m not surprised she needs a break. I allow myself a tentative moment of relief that maybe this whole thing is work-related.

She takes a deep breath and continues. “I enjoyed our collaboration. I think we’ve been innovative, and it’s been a fun project, but I don’t think we should work together anymore. It’s gotten too hard to keep our professional and personal lives separate. We tried, and maybe you’re better at this than I am, but it’s too much for me. I can’t keep making dating videos for you or watching your reels. It’s …”

She trails off, then looks me in the eye, daring me to say something and meet her halfway. It would be better not to have her blue eyes on me so intently while she says something that will likely shatter me, but I can’t turn away.

“Sebastian, I can’t keep working with you because I’m in love with you.”

Oh God. My body freezes up, and my mouth drops open. Can she see the panic in my eyes? Can everyone in this bar hear my heart racing?

She puts a hand on my arm. “I know you, Bash. I know this terrifies you. But I also know you have feelings for me too.”

“What? How do you—” I sputter.

She blushes. “You were talking in your sleep the other night. Mumbling in my ear. And when I woke up, you were stroking my hair and looking at me like it meant something. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin the moment.”

I remember drifting off to sleep next to Ashley, that I may have mumbled something about how much I liked her. Did I say love? I was a bit punch drunk.

You’re not fooling yourself, Sebastian. I woke up thinking how sweet she’d been and how much I enjoy being with her. I’ve tried not to think about that for the past few days because I know it leads someplace I can’t go. It breaks my heart that she saw right through me and that it’s led her to fall in love with the exact person she shouldn’t be with.

She’s watching me intently, waiting. Her eyes are wide and compassionate, and I’m like a driver spotting a fawn crossing the road but I can’t brake in time. My heart is aching in my chest so much that I almost wonder if I’m dying. I can’t possibly love Ashley. That would be a disaster. I’m not a person who should be trusted with fragile things. I leave a trail of brokenness in my wake.

She reaches out to grip my hand now. “Say something, Bash.”

I have a wild impulse to ignore everything I know to be true about myself and about hard reality and tell her that I love everything about her, from her show tunes to her adorable frown to how incredibly badass I find her in business meetings. Then I remember the expression on my mom’s face when she had to tell me, again and again, that Dad wouldn’t be coming home for his visit after all, that Dad was busy, or had a new girlfriend. I think about all my father’s relationships, watching them implode after the haze of falling in love faded. This is what Rossi relationships are like. This is who we are. I can’t do this to Ashley. It was bad enough with Brianna, and we didn’t have anything like the relationship Ashley and I have shared.

“I’m sorry, Ashley.” I exert all my effort to keep my voice steady, like I’m not torn apart inside. “It’s not like that. I’ve had fun. I don’t know what I said in my sleep, but we’re having a good time. You’re a great friend, and I didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m sorry.”

It aches to watch her reaction, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her face as it falls. She goes from surprised to devastated to livid in a few seconds. I expect her to lash out at me, but she’s cold as ice.

“You are such a goddamn liar, Sebastian. I just didn’t think you’d lie to yourself and believe it.”

She takes a huge swig of her cider and stands up. She turns back to grab her bag, then narrows her eyes at me. “I’ve always wanted to do this to a man,” she says, her eyes hardening as she pours the remainder of her cider all over me and walks away.