Page 60 of About That Pact

She kept talking at a rapid pace. “It’s just…the last time we saw each other, it was kind of a blow up. I think we should talk through things. I don’t want anything to be weird between us. And, after talking to my friends, I see how much you mean to me. This is definitely not a conversation I want to have over the phone. You know?”

“I know.” His voice was steady.

“I figured you would.” This was another good sign. He saw the importance of talking face to face. “Do you want to come here?”

“No.”

“No? I can come to you, does that work?”

“No.”

This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in public. He wasn’t giving her another option, though, so she’d make it work. “Drinks somewhere?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

This was becoming a seesaw of a conversation.

“You made it perfectly clear what you wanted in life, which did not include me. I do not need you to rehash it all over again because you don’t want things to be weird,” he said with a clipped tone.

“That’s not all I said,” she pushed back. He was missing the point. They had to see each other. She had to tell him she wanted the same thing he wanted—for them to be together. “You missed the part where I mentioned how much you mean to me.”

“No, I heard that part. It was right after you had to talk to your friends. They helped you figure out if I meant something to you. It’s un-fucking-believable. We have known each other for over thirty years. I was your first kiss when you were thirteen. I was the first person you had sex with when you were eighteen. The past few months, we were in a happy relationship, minus the title.”

“See? You mean something to me,” she desperately interjected for him to understand.

“Not enough!” Rafe raised his voice. He took a moment to calm down before speaking again. “You had to talk to your friends to figure out if I was enough. You had to dissect me with your friends to see if I was worth it to you. We’ve had some level of intimacy with each other for over eighteen years. And it took you having to talk to your friends to figure out if you wanted to be with me.”

Everything was spiraling out of her grasp.

Her heart was crushing, and she couldn’t breathe. His words sounded so finite, like her actions had been inexcusable and unforgivable. It was ripping her apart, the idea of them not being together.

“It didn’t take my friends for me to know what you mean to me,” she tried to recover. “I have always loved you.”

“Do not tell me that,” his voice was filled with angst. “You don’t get to say that to me. Not now. We want different things.”

“You don’t know what I want!” she shouted, no longer able to control her emotions. Her eyes were swelling with tears.

“You made it perfectly clear what you want.” He was quick to respond, indifference in his voice. “I need to go.”

“How are we going to handle—”

“Vegas?” he interrupted her. “Honest, let’s just do our best to avoid each other.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“But it’s how I’m ending it.”

She wasn’t given the chance to say anything else because he hung up on her.

Rafe was more concerned about Vegas, when all she wanted to ask was how they were going to handle how they felt. They both wanted a relationship, but because of shitty wording on her end, he was done?

This was the one outcome she hadn’t analyzed, and it hurt the most.

RAFE CONSIDERED HIMSELF lucky his career was his passion. He went into each assignment with excitement and was always ready to uncover a truth. Whether the truth was about a recent election or how shitty blind dates were, each assignment meant something to at least one person who read his piece. Which was the motivating factor for Rafe to do his job well. There was someone out there, reading his work, who needed to read his message.

“This is shit.” Lance didn’t even bother sugar coating his words over the phone. “I am not running an article on why breaking up is bullshit.”