by Jordyn White
I know we’ve been seeing each other for six months now, and that’s plenty of time for some people, but what about all those other people who date one another for years and never move in together or never get married or never go anywhere with it? Years, then they kind of grow apart or whatever and break up and it’s all over. Nothing permanent. It’s done, and nobody gets fucked over.
“It’s only been six months.” Those were my thoughts. I didn’t mean to say them aloud.
“So it’s too soon,” he says, again like a statement instead of a question. And like he doesn’t believe a damn word of it.
“Too soon. Yes. Don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you. We spend practically every waking minute together anyway. We sleep in each other’s beds every single night. I thought it might be nice if we shared a place, shared a bed. But that’s the last thing you want, isn’t it?”
Eyes fixed wide on him, I shake my head slightly, trying to deny it, but he’s right. It’s the last thing I want. But not because I don’t care about him. That’s clearly what he’s thinking. We definitely can’t move in together, but I don’t want him believing he’s the reason either.
I reach for him and stroke his arm uncertainly, not sure how to fix this. “I love the time we spend together, Mason. And I—” but I bite back my words. I won’t say I love him. It’s only going to encourage him to be closer to me than he should be.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“I love spending time with you,” I say again. “I think we just need to stay where we are, and you know, keep things the way they are. I just don’t know that we should be doing something so permanent.”
He jerks his head back at that, frowning hard. “Permanent? Because this is only something temporary?”
I can only stare at him. Come on, this little voice inside my head thinks, you were there for the test. You have to know better. But deep down I know he’s just as delusional as everybody else. They believe what they want to believe, they always have. Even when I was fucking at death’s door, people still insisted on believing everything would be okay.
“What has this been to you, Corrine?”
“No. Mason. I’m enjoying you,” I say urgently.
“Enjoying me,” he repeats slowly. Incredulously. “I just told you that I love you. I moved here in part to be closer to you. My mother was at your graduation.”
I’m shaking my head. This is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know what to do to stop it.
“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to take care of you. I wanted to protect you.”
God, him and Rayce. “I don’t need protection,” I say, suddenly angry myself now. Why does everyone think they need to protect me? They can’t fucking protect me.
He blinks at me.
I soften again. Shit, I’m going about this all wrong. But no one’s ever given me the damned handbook of instructions for this stuff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “Do you already know this is temporary?”
All I can do is gape at him. What does he really want me to say?
“Fuck,” he says, and I flinch. He spins away from me, then spins back. “What did you think we were doing, Corrine? Do you think this is just a fling for me?”
“I didn’t say fling,” I say weakly. He has to stop this. He has to stop.
“You didn’t have to say it. If you already know this is going nowhere, then stop wasting my time.”
Wasting his time? Have these moments been wasting his time? Have I been so selfish? He’s made my time so amazing I almost can’t stand it, but maybe it wasn’t fair to keep him for so long when, unlike me, he does have a future to plan.
Maybe I should let him go. Right now. It would be the selfless thing to do. If I should’ve done it long ago, then surely I should do it now.
For one brief moment I think I actually can.
But he takes over, and brings me back to reality. With a finality that drops through my body like ice, he says, “You’re not who I thought you were. You can find a ride home.”
Stunned, I can only watch as he turns and walks away. Because everything about this feels horribly final. The moment he turns the corner and disappears, I start to crumble, tears bursting painfully out of me.
I change my mind. I change my mind. I can’t say goodbye yet. I can’t do it. I want him.
I gather my strength and run after him, but when I get around the corner I don’t see him. When I go inside and to the elevators, the doors are closing. I run over and push the button impatiently, then come to my senses and run for the stairs. I hurry down, my heels clicking on the marble. I push hard on the door and it swings wide. He’s there! But he’s already down the aisle and just getting in his car.
“Mason!”
The car door slams. I hurry after him, calling his name as he backs up. But the exit is in the opposite direction. I know he had to have heard me, but he pulls away from me, away and away, and turns the corner, and is gone.
Oh God. I come to a stop in the middle of the aisle and clutch my arms to myself. What the fuck just happened? How did our perfect evening come to this? What should I have said differently? What should I have done? I didn’t mean to hurt him like this.
And I don’t want this to be over.
This is just a fight, I tell myself. It has to be. Couples have fights, right? We have to get past this. I’m shivering from head to toe. He has to forgive me. He has to.
Because what’s the point of having more life to live if Mason isn’t in it?
Chapter 30
Corrine
When I get home that night, I send him a text. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Can we talk?
But he doesn’t respond that night. He doesn’t respond the next morning either. I send him another series of texts, apologizing for hurting him, and begging him to talk to me.
As the day wears on, I panic even more. I’ve never been in a relationship before, let alone had a fight with someone I’m in a relationship with. Do fights normally go on this long? This is just a fight, right? Or is this over? He hasn’t truly left me, has he?
That noble voice inside my head keeps telling me I should just let him go. Just let him go, because isn’t this where we’ve always been heading anyway? What did I think was going to happen? How did I think this was going to end?
But every time I decide to let him go, I go into a fresh panic, and end up sending him another text or trying to call. This can’t be over. It’s can’t.
At work that afternoon, I’m barely functional. Every few minutes, I check my phone.
But there’s nothing. Not one word.
Mason
I’m trying to tell myself that I’ve overreacted, and that it’s just my ego that’s been bruised. I keep trying to tell myself to man up and talk to her so we can work through it and move on.
But move on to what?
Because no matter how I try to tell myself that this is okay, something is wrong. I can’t forget the look of horror on her face when I told her that I love her. I thought she knew. I thought she loved me, too. As many times as we’ve made love, I thought we were on the same page. Was I just an idiot?
I figured she would need to hear those words from me before I proposed something like living together, and honestly, I wanted to say them to her anyway. I’m not usually one to say those words, but I wanted to.
I didn’t expect her not to say it back, and I definitely didn’t expect her to act like it was the worst thing I could have possibly said. She as much as said that she already knows this is never going anywhere. God. I’m an epic fool.
When I met her, I wasn’t exactly looking for a wife, but I do want my own family someday. I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m getting too old to spend six months in a relationship with someone who already fucking knows she doesn’t want me. It kills me.
And confuses the hell out of me. I thought we had somethin
g special. I thought we had something real. The way she looks at me, the way she touches me, the way we can spend day after day together and not get sick of one another. The way she is, even now, begging to talk to me.
I want to. I’m dying to hear her voice again. I’m dying to hold her in my arms again.
And I’m terrified to hear what she has to say. What could she possibly tell me that will undo what’s been done? Mostly, I don’t want to talk to her because I don’t think I can survive another round of empty words all while I see the truth on her face.
Horrified. She looked absolutely horrified. If that’s how she really feels, there’s nothing to forgive. But how can she expect me to forget?
Corrine
I can’t go another day without talking to him. I get off work at nine and head to his house afterward, determined to make him see me. I’m that desperate.
It’s on the way over that an unthinkable thought occurs to me. What if he’s not answering because he can’t? What if he was in an accident? I know I’m probably being an alarmist, but shit happens. I sure never expected to outlive my aunt and uncle, but they drowned at sea one day. Just fucking drowned. One day fine, the next day, gone. Hell, Mason’s own father died in a car accident.
I get myself all worked up, my foot heavy on the gas, and my heart pounding the whole way. When I get to his street and see his lights on, I’m hopeful. But I have no idea if his cars are in the garage or not.
I park out front and hurry up the darkened sidewalk to the front door. The porch light isn’t on. With trembling hands, I knock. Only a few seconds later, I hear the heavy stomp of his boots across the floor, and all my anxiety about his well-being drains out of me so fast my knees get weak. I press my hands to my chest, close my eyes, and exhale, feeling like an idiot.
Then everything else that’s going on demands my full attention again. He’s fine. He really has been ignoring me on purpose. He probably isn’t going to be happy to see me standing at his front door. The porch light flicks on, the bolt slides free, and the door swings open.
He’s in dark jeans and a snug, black tee. When I see him, my heart leaps up in my chest, and my stomach sinks down to my feet. When he sees me, his brows slide lower, lower, lower. He doesn’t remove his hand from the knob.
“Hi,” I say hesitantly.
“What do you want, Corrine?”
“I just... I’m really sorry, Mason. Please, I want to fix this. What can I do?”
He looks away, clenching his jaw. The muscles in his forearm flex as he grips the knob.
“Can I please come in and talk to you?”
He looks back to me, and the storm of anger and pain in his eyes rips right through me. “If things were going too fast for you, that’s one thing. That’s fine. But answer me this. Do you see a future with us?”
I start to tear up. I don’t want to answer that question. No, I can’t see a future with us, not the way he’s talking about, but not for the reason he thinks. But he won’t understand. People don’t understand this shit. Two and a half years is not that much different than two, and I’m as much on the edge of a cliff as I’ve ever been. I can’t do this right now. If I’m lucky and get to make this kind of decision down the road...
My heart contracts in sharp pain, because it hurts too much to imagine that kind of blissful future with him knowing how quickly and easily it can be ripped from my hands.
And it’s so fucking unfair.
“I take it that’s a no,” he says, his eyes hardening.
“Mason,” I say pleading, my voice wobbling, “why can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing?”
“You mean fucking around?”
I wince.
“Because maybe that’s what you were doing, but that’s not what I was doing.”
I bite my lip. Have I been fucking around with him? Toying with him? Being reckless? God, I’m a horrible human being.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. No, please. Please don’t end this. “We’re done.” And he closes the door.
The next day I don’t get out of bed until ten, and that’s only because I have to pee. Then I don’t get out of bed again until three and that’s only because my phone’s been downstairs and I need it to call in to work. My shift doesn’t start until four, but apparently I haven’t had enough hours of crying because I still need more.
I should feel badly about calling in, but I don’t. Let them fire me if they want. I don’t care. I’ve decided to let Mason go the way he wants me to, and the way I should have anyway instead of being such a selfish little bitch. I never should’ve let him get this close to me.
And if I want to spend all day in bed crying about how unfair it all is, I fucking will.
I leave my phone downstairs and go back to bed. I fall asleep sometime before the sun sets, and wake up to the repeated ringing of the doorbell and loud knocking on the front door sometime afterward.
Disoriented, I struggle to get untangled from the covers and hustle down the stairs, turning on lights as I go. I didn’t realize I was hoping the person on the other side of the door would be Mason until I open it to see that it’s Rayce. He looks like a man on a mission, too. “What the hell?” I say.
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” He looks me up and down. “Are you sick? Why aren’t you at work?”
“I called in.” I walk away, leaving the door open. I shuffle to the couch and hear the door shut behind me.
“Yeah, I know. They told me.”
“Why would they bother to tell you?” Like he has nothing else on his plate down there.
“Because your boss knows that’s the kind of thing I want to know about. Why did you call in? She said you didn’t give anybody a reason.”
I plop on the couch, sinking all the way down and leaning my head against the back. I close my eyes and rest my palms on my forehead. “I just didn’t want to go in today, okay? I’m sorry.”
“All right,” he says, slowly, as if that’s not the end of the discussion at all. He comes over and sits on the cushions next to me.
“You look like shit.”
I drop my hands and look at him. “Gee, thanks.”
“What’s going on?”
Rayce is the one I never have to talk to about stuff if I don’t want to, and I’m definitely taking advantage of that fact right now. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.”
I look at him and blink. “What?”
“Something’s really wrong with you. Tell me what it is.”
I fold my arms against my chest, angry that he’s breaking the rules, but he’s getting to me and there’s something painful inside me that starts to crack.
“Are you having problems at work?”
I shake my head, a lump starting at the base of my throat. You’d think I cried enough today for an entire lifetime, but no, it just keeps coming.
“Something to do with the cancer?”
I shake my head again, tears swelling up.
“Something to do with Mason?”
I put my hands over my eyes and start to really cry again, wishing none of this was happening. Wishing Mason had never said those things the other night. Wishing to God my life was different so I could have told him all the things he needed to hear, all the things that are in my heart.
Rayce pulls me against his chest, just like that, with my hands over my face, and lets me cry in his arms. He doesn’t say anything. He’s really not good with emotions like this anyway. He’s probably plotting a way to get Lizzy over here so she can take over now that he knows what’s going on, but I don’t really want to talk to her either. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to go back to sleep so I don’t have to feel anything.
When I finally start to settle, and have sunk back against the couch staring into nothingness, I’m aware of the fact that he’s watching me carefully.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”
�
��Okay,” I mumble. We’ll see about that.
“I need to know if he’s hurt you.”
I roll my eyes and throw my hands up. “God. No, Rayce. Do you still think so little of him?”
“No, actually I don’t. But you never know and I wanted to be sure. You guys just had a fight, or what?”
I exhale heavily, my breath shuddering from so much crying. “We broke up.”
“What?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Why?”
Yeah, I can’t answer that. “We just did.”
Rayce furrows his brows, looks away, looks back to me. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, whether it makes sense or not, that’s what happened.”
“How? I don’t understand.”
I sigh again, realizing he’s not going to let up until I give him something. So fine. “He wanted to move in together.”
He’s watching me like he’s waiting for more, but I offer no further details. This is bad enough.
After a minute, he prompts, “The... bastard?”
I roll my eyes. “I really don’t think that’s such a smart idea, do you? I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know. I thought you guys really liked each other.”
I throw my hands up again. “What the hell difference does that make?”
He just looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”
Because you’re all living in fucking la-la land, I want to say, but don’t. “I’m really not at a point in my life where I can be moving in with someone.” There. I said it. Now he can just go on home.
“Do you feel you’re too young?”
“Ugh!” I get up and stomp into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” he says, frustrated, getting up from the couch and following me. “You’re not making sense.”
I sigh and open the freezer door. “Okay,” I say flatly, pulling an ice cream sandwich out of the box. “Whatever.”
Just stop asking me questions.
Rayce straightens. “What’s the problem with living together? It’s too soon?”