by Helena Rac
“Tessa, seems like you and Luke have a thing going on,” he continues. Oh shit. Of course this is about me and Luke. That would be more logical. I’m so relieved it has nothing to do with the wedding and with Clara. How could I have even thought that would be the case? They love each other so much.
But I’m not sure I want to hear what comes next. In fact, selfishly, I might have preferred to hear that Marcus is experiencing cold feet.
“Mm-hmm.” I try to sound unaffected, uttering no words so that I can hide the worry in my voice. I wonder how much Luke has shared with Marcus about us. I’m not sure if guys talk much about stuff like this. I wonder if Clara said something.
“Tessa, you know Luke’s like a brother to me. I’ve known him for a long time. And I love the guy to death, so I feel awful for even bringing this up. But you’re going to be my sister-in-law, so I feel like I need to let you know.”
I think I may need to sit down for this. “I’m all ears,” I say confidently, yet underneath the surface, I brace myself. I have an eerie feeling this conversation won’t warm my heart.
“Women seem to fall for Luke so easily. I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about him. But Luke’s not one to commit. He’s never been in a serious relationship for as long as I’ve known him.”
I’m very quickly seeing where this conversation is headed, and I’m thankful for the comfort of my loveseat, as well as the pillow I’m clutching in the hope that the action itself will help me get through the rest of the call.
“Not one that’s lasted more than a few weeks,” Marcus clarifies. “I can probably count on one hand the girls he’s even considered to be more than a one-night stand. And they only turned out to be a several-night’s stand, after all. It’s just how he’s always been, the lifestyle he’s lived. Once the novelty wears off, he seems to lose interest. I can’t help but think that, with you being here and him being in London, this is just another pursuit that will end the way they all have.”
I open my mouth in response, but nothing comes out. I want to tell Marcus that he’s wrong, that what Luke and I have is different – will be different in the long run. I’ve spent time with Luke and feel like I know him. I remember all he’s shared with me – his sincerity, his feelings for me. But Marcus’s words have rendered me speechless. An awkward silence fills the line again. In light of my non-response, Marcus continues.
“I don’t know, maybe he’s fallen for you. Maybe for you he’s willing to change. But I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt, okay? I know how difficult that would be for you,” he concludes, his voice laced with concern. Obviously Clara must have told him about me and my past relationships. Well, relationship.
What Marcus has shared is the last thing I need to hear from him, especially because he knows Luke much better than I do. It’s not like what he’s said is anything new, though. Luke said so himself – the relationships he’s had in the past have never been serious. Things never worked out, for one reason or another, I remember him saying. But Marcus’s words resonate with me because they’re an unwelcome reminder. I seemed to have neatly tucked in the obvious for the time being and, perhaps blindly, went on the assumption that this time things would in fact work out, that Luke would feel differently about me.
The questions I haven’t really wanted to consider since my ninja-like escape are bubbling up. How did I ever think we would work? What will happen when this week is over and Luke’s gone back to London? Why would he want a relationship with me when he hasn’t considered one with anyone else before? Why would I?
The related answers are coming to the surface at lightning speed. Long distance won’t work – this was doomed from the start. You’ll fall into that emotional black hole again, so don’t make it any more difficult on yourself than it has to be. Of course he’s only in this for a few days, a convenient novelty. What relationship? Cue the scoff.
Even though I’m sitting down, my legs suddenly feel weak, my stomach unsettled. My heart is trying to keep pace with my tumultuous emotions. It’s as if I hear my brain shouting, “Abort! Abort!” but my heart sneaks in and whispers, “Give it a chance, Tessa.” Ugh! I need time to re-think this.
I have a sudden urge to make a list. A new one. One that will confirm I haven’t fallen for Luke, even though I hoped that maybe he would have been it for me.
“Tessa? Are you still there?” I hear Marcus through the clashing emotions that are crowding my brain. I completely forgot he was still on the line.
“Yes, I’m here,” I respond, my throat coarse and dry.
“Are you okay?”
I cough, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I’m … I’m fine. It’s not like it’s anything serious,” I say hurriedly, convincing myself that it isn’t. It can’t be. My heart may be telling me one thing, but my mind knows differently. And I always listen to my mind. The heart can be too emotional. Foolish, even. Whatever it is that Luke and I have can’t be serious after only a few days. Things don’t just develop out of the blue. People don’t just fall for each other so quickly. Do they?
Think logic. Right. Logic tells me that what Luke and I have must be just physical attraction mistaken for something more profound. The honeymoon phase. A cake batter without the ingredients to make it flourish. After the lust cools off, we’ll be left feeling, well, cold. After all, we’d never be able to spend enough time together to find out whether this would develop into anything more anyways, so it can’t be that serious.
“Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. I’m glad you said something. Thanks for the heads up,” I reply convincingly. At least I think I sound convincing, but the teeny-tiny voice that’s been hibernating in my head for a couple of days starts wiggling out from underneath all those comforting blankets. I tucked it in, I placed those blankets there. The denial felt incredibly cozy, but it was just a temporary lapse of judgment. I’m suddenly shivering, but I realize I’d rather be cold. It’s something I’ve gotten used to. I don’t deal well with unpredictable changes in temperature – or feelings, for that matter.
“Okay, then. I just wasn’t sure if it was my place to say something to begin with,” Marcus continues, sincerity evident in his voice. “I don’t want to make things worse, you know?”
“Of course I do. I know you’re just looking out for me.”
“Yes, that’s all this is, Tessa. And if I’m wrong – I mean, I hope I’m wrong – please don’t hold it against me, okay?”
“You know I would never do that.” I couldn’t. I know he only has the best intentions in mind. “I’ll see you soon.” I need to end this call.
“For sure.”
I don’t even think I press the end button. I stare at the phone in a state of shock, like I’ve just woken up after a very confusing yet vivid dream. Though what Marcus said clearly wasn’t a dream. In fact, he didn’t need to say anything at all. I should have known better.
I can’t help but curse myself for being in this predicament. A realization hits me: I know I’ve nearly fallen and gotten in further than I intended to. I made promises to Luke that I shouldn’t have. I let the attraction, the lust, fog my judgment. But the vivid picture Marcus painted, which should have been clear from the start, means only one thing.
I need to break things off. I need to break them off now, before I do any more damage to either one of us. Before Luke wrecks me completely and I’m back to the same place I’ve successfully avoided visiting for the last three years. I can’t afford to go back there. No, this stops here. I know just what I have to do next; after all, I’ve done it before. Break. Detach. Run.
Chapter 19
Can’t wait to see you, Luke texts an hour before the rehearsal.
Sorry. Gonna be late. Work emergency, I reply.
There is no work emergency. Did I mention I hate being late? Especially to the rehearsal of the vows of my sister’s wedding in which I am the maid of honor. But toni
ght I don’t want to get there any sooner than I have to. I don’t want to have to talk to Luke before the rehearsal. I couldn’t bear to face him and pretend that we’re okay. Because we aren’t, right? I mean, we definitely won’t be in a few days anyways, so what’s the point?
Is everything ok?
Luke’s perceptive, as usual.
Cake problems.
I’m sure you’ve got everything under control.
I’d better. God, I feel like such a loser for making this up. How did I let myself get to this point?
I call Clara and explain my “work emergency.” I tell her too that it has to do with her wedding cake, even though I told Marcus earlier that everything will be ready. I should have come up with something more solid. I am such a bad liar. And a horrible human being. Clara’s not pleased, but she wants to make sure the cake is perfect, so she says she understands. At least she’s bought it for the time being. But she warns me to get to the rehearsal as soon as possible. I hate lying to her, but the last thing I want to do is get into a conversation with her about Luke. That I don’t want to talk about.
I get to the church just as Liz, my cousin and the last of the bridesmaids, is starting her practice walk down the aisle.
“Thank god you’ve made it,” Clara sighs.
I smile and whisper, “Everything’s taken care of.” Of course she thinks I’m referring to the cake and getting to the rehearsal like I promised, but I’m thinking of something completely different. Something I’ve spent the last couple of hours planning. And I’ve figured it all out. I’ve definitely got it under control. I do, I think convincingly.
As I begin my practice walk down the aisle, I don’t dare look up, but I can sense Luke’s eyes on me, like they’re pleading for a reaction. I’m looking down at my crimson toenails, hesitant to meet his gaze, worried that he’ll see right through me, right down to my heart. But the pull he’s got on me is too strong, the urge to give in and see his face is too tempting. Our eyes meet, and Luke smiles as if seeing me just completely made his day. His smile nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. He mouths a silent, “Hey.” I’m so proficient at reading his lips. God, I love his lips.
I smile in response, then force it back and look away. For the rest of the rehearsal, I focus on Clara and Marcus and my maid-of-honor responsibilities, avoiding any further eye contact with Luke. I’m such a chicken.
Once the rehearsal is done, I take a moment to tell Luke I’ll ride with Clara and Marcus and meet him at the restaurant. When he tries to kiss me, I try to avoid direct mouth-to-mouth, so instead, more than a little awkwardly, he kisses my cheek and I pull clumsily out of his grasp. Holding my resolve when he’s so near, when his lips are mere inches from mine, is an absolute necessity. Otherwise, my plan – my The Writing’s on the Wall Plan – will backfire. I absolutely cannot let that happen this time around.
“I gotta go. I’ll see you shortly,” I say, and hurry over to Marcus’s car before they leave the church.
“You’re not riding with Luke?” Clara asks suspiciously.
“No, I thought it would be better to ride with you guys. That way we can discuss any last minute details,” I lie. Again. Horrible, horrible person.
“Oh. Okay. I guess it can’t hurt,” she agrees.
I avoid Luke when we get to the restaurant and find my assigned seat next to Clara. I notice the questioning look he’s channeling my way, but I don’t dare show anything on my face other than what I hope is a radiant smile.
On the inside, though, I am anything but radiant. I’m tormented by what I know tonight will bring, but I need to end this, end us, before it’s too late. After all, all lovely things come to an end eventually. No need to prolong the inevitable.
Once the dinner – which, by the way, is otherwise wonderful – and all the customary pleasantries are done, I excuse myself and head to the ladies’ room. I need a break from the façade I’ve been displaying; it’s getting heavy. I splash some water on my face, then dry it off, making sure I don’t mess up my makeup. I stare at myself in the mirror and see hints of the old Tessa – jaded, impassive. Luke’s brought out a new Tessa, a cheerful and passionate person, and I’m not sure I want to go back to being my old self.
There’s no other way. I’m better off on my own. I gather enough courage to head out.
“What’s going on, Tess?” Luke’s voice startles me as I exit the washroom, and I gasp. I wonder how long he’s been waiting for me, but knowing Luke, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been at the door since I left the table. I was hoping not to get into this until we could be on our own. The last thing I want to do is make a scene, though there’s enough separation between us and the room for anyone to really notice.
“What do you mean?” I feel awful for being so evasive with him, especially when I clearly know what he’s referring to.
“You seem distant tonight,” Luke says softly. “What’s wrong?” He’s too good at reading my body language.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie, and I look down at my fingernails, which I am not-surprisingly picking at. “Just feeling a little tired.” The biggest cop-out ever.
He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine, then brings them to his lips for a gentle kiss. The connection pierces right through me. His lips create a spark the moment they touch my skin and send a current of what might as well be sugar-coated electrons because I instantly crave more than just Luke’s kiss.
“Tessa, be honest with me. That’s one thing you can do, after all the time we’ve spent together over the last few days. Talk to me. You’ve barely said a word the entire night.”
He’s right. I do need to talk to him. I force myself to think past what my body is begging for and focus on what I need to do next – The Writing’s on the Wall Plan, Step One: Break it off. I figure I’ll just say what needs to be said, what I practiced before the rehearsal, and we’ll go back to the dining room once it’s all out in the open. Okay, maybe I’ll go back. Luke may need a few minutes when we’re through.
“Luke, these past few days have been … I can’t even begin to explain the way you affect me. You’ve somehow managed to make me feel hopeful again. I’ve never quite felt how I feel when I’m with you. But I can’t … I don’t think we should continue seeing each other.”
“You can’t? Or you don’t want to?”
“Both.” I look at him, hoping he can see how difficult this is for me. I don’t want to be doing this, but I have to.
“Damn it, Tess, don’t do this. Not again. I’ve heard you say this once already. You don’t mean it.”
I sense annoyance in his voice. He’s doubting me. Of course he is. I would be too, given the see-saw of feelings I’ve displayed over this past week. But there’s no turning back. Luke won’t trust me again anyways, so I might as well finish what I started.
“I mean it.” At least I’ve convinced myself that I do. “It’s just … this won’t work.”
“Of course it won’t if you’re not willing to try.”
“I did try.”
“You tried? For all of a few days,” he scoffs as he runs his fingers through his hair. I’d really like to run my fingers through his hair too. No! No distractions from said hair, no matter how messy or playful or similar.
“It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have led you on.” I’m pleased with my composure.
“Led me on? We’re both in this together. If you give up on us right now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take you back again. I’m serious, Tess. This will be it.”
He looks and sounds serious. Interestingly, it’s with mixed feelings I process his statement. It feels as if a sharp object has sliced my heart, and what I can only interpret as anxiety takes hold for a brief moment, but I shrug it off. I need to be logical about this. I won’t need him to take me back.
“Are you sure that’s what you want? We’ve started something here. Just give me – give us – a chance to see this through. Please.” The frustration from moments ago has
now been replaced with soft vulnerability. It’s sweet and sexy and appealing. No, no – it’s not. I can’t think of him this way.
“I can’t,” I say simply, because this is what’s best for both of us.
“Tessa, please, when something feels so right, how can you just let it go?”
I don’t respond. It does feel right. Just a few hours ago I was practically ready to sing about it, I felt so happy.
“Please, don’t break us. Not like this.”
I know he’ll only be able to hold onto his composure for a little while longer before anger is the only emotion left. I know, because I’ve felt it before.
“I have to, if I’m going to survive you.” My voice quivers, and my eyes pool with tears on the verge of breaking. I close my eyes, hoping to collect myself and hold back the tears. I almost manage – I hold back all but one of them, which slowly rolls down my cheek. I open my eyes, confident that I’ve averted the full-on downpour, but I don’t dare look at him. Instead, I find myself picking at my fingernails again.
Luke cups my face, then gently wipes away the tear. This simple, affectionate gesture has a profound effect on me. I look up and meet his gaze, and the soft desire I see in his eyes nearly makes me forget about my plan. He doesn’t wait another second before he kisses me. Deep and hard, like he won’t let me go. Like he’s going to take what has freely been his for the last few days and no one’s going to stop him. Like the kiss will convince me to take back all that I just said.
I almost do. The taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the feeling of his body against me, the touch of his fingers … It takes all of my determination to control the urge. Maybe just one last time, just one more taste. So I give in, if only for a minute. I kiss him back just as intensely, holding onto this one last connection before I force him out of my life. Before my resolve wavers, I find the strength to pull away and move on to Step Two: Detach. Let go of the emotions. Let go of Luke.
“Don’t.” I place my fingers on his lips, stopping him from any further attempts, even though I crave the connection the moment it’s broken. “Just … good-bye,” I whisper as I step back.