If You Were Mine

by Melanie Harlow

  She gasped. “What? Why? When?”

  “This morning,” I sobbed hoarsely. Was I coming down with something? My chest felt thick with something and I couldn’t breathe right.

  “Oh my God. Are you at work?”

  “No. I took the day off.” A coughing fit seized me.

  “I’m coming over. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “OK.” I tossed my phone aside and reached for another tissue, but the box was empty. Wiping my nose with my sleeve for the time being, I went downstairs and grabbed another box from the bathroom closet. When I saw Theo’s toothbrush by the sink, I felt like stabbing him with it. How could he do this to me?

  I took the box of tissues with me and went back upstairs, yanking off the top and pulling a clean one out. I considered getting dressed but couldn’t muster enough energy or the will to care what I looked like. I pulled on some flannel pants and thick socks, then tucked the tissue box under my arm again and went down to wait for Jaime.

  Throwing myself down on the couch, I lay on my side and stared at the spot where he’d stood and given up on us. Where he’d kissed me for the last time. Where he’d broken my heart. How was I ever going to walk through this room and not remember that? Not feel the pain all over again?

  Fresh sobs erupted, and I cried into tissue after tissue, letting them pile up on the floor in front of me.

  When I heard the knock at the door, I sat up and stepped over them on my way to answer it. To my dismay, both Jaime and Quinn walked in.

  “Sorry, he wouldn’t let me take him home,” Jaime said as she hugged me. “We were on our way to lunch.”

  “I want to help.” Quinn shut the door behind him. “I think I’m good at this stuff.”

  “It’s fine.” I fussed with my hair a little and gave up. “Come on in, but I’m not sure anyone can help me.”

  “What happened?” Jaime asked, shrugging out of her coat. She was dressed for work in a black pencil skirt and jacket.

  I stepped over the pile of soggy tissues again and flopped back onto the couch. “He left. Said he couldn’t do this anymore. But he can—that’s not it.”

  “What do you mean?” Quinn sat down on the chair by the window, crossed his arms over his chest and an ankle over his knee. He was tall like Theo, maybe a little thinner, with dark blond hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen on anyone, man or woman.

  “He’s scared,” I said, sniffing. “This is what he does when he panics that he’s let someone get too close to him. He runs away. He flat out told me as much when we were at the cabin.”

  “Did you tell him that?” Jaime sat next to me and pushed my hair back from my face.

  “Yes.” I pulled another tissue from the box. “I called him out on everything.”

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, dabbing at my sore nose. It had to be bright red by now. “He couldn’t even bring himself to lie and say he didn’t love me. That’s what hurts so much. It would almost be better if he just dumped me because he didn’t feel the same. But I know he does.”

  Jaime put her arm around me. “I’m sorry, Claire. This sucks.”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Can I offer some insight?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “This could be a simple case of a guy freaking out when he realizes that he loves someone. Happens all the time. A lot of guys don’t like feeling emotionally vulnerable that way. But I don’t think that’s the whole story.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Jaime told me a little bit about Theo’s background on the way over here.”

  “I hope I wasn’t betraying a confidence,” Jaime said quickly. “I just wanted to bring him up to speed. And the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that’s what this stems from.” Jaime had majored in psychology and was always good at analyzing people.

  “It’s OK.” I tipped my head onto her shoulder for a second. “I know you want to help.”

  “I agree with Jaime,” Quinn said. “And as someone who was really affected by the loss of his mom as an adult, I think if he never grieved the loss he experienced as a kid, never came to terms with it, he’s never going to be able to connect emotionally.” He paused. “I felt a lot of guilt after my mom died, and I had to work through it.”

  I nodded. “I’m positive he has unresolved feelings about his mother, and it’s affecting his ability to trust me. But he won’t admit that. He just buries anything he doesn’t want to think about.”

  “Has he ever gone to therapy?” Jaime asked.

  “No. He’s too stubborn, I think.” I closed my eyes, trying to fight back against tears. “I love him, but I think I just have to get over him. Because even if he came back tonight and said he was sorry, I’d be afraid he was going to do this to me again.”

  She sighed and squeezed me tighter. “And he would. You can’t make him better, Claire. No matter how much you want to. Trust me when I say he has to want to fix himself before he can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

  “She knows what she’s talking about,” said Quinn. “I wanted to love her way before she wanted to let me.”

  Jaime stuck her tongue out at him.

  It made me laugh a little, but it made me sad too—Jaime and Quinn were so lucky they’d figured it out. “It just seems so unfair. After all this time looking for the perfect man, I fall for someone so broken.”

  “We’re all a little broken, aren’t we? And I’m not surprised at all.” Jaime rubbed my arm. “You’re a nurturer, Claire. It’s what makes you such a good teacher and friend. You see the good in people and draw it out. You see the hurt in people and want to help them heal. But it’s not always possible. Some people don’t want to get better.”

  I heard what she was saying, and I knew she was right. As much as it hurt to let Theo go when I knew I could make him happy, I couldn’t force it on him. He had to want to be happy, and he had to want it enough to work for it.

  But it hurt a lot. Because when it came down to it, I had to face the fact that even though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, the action spoke plenty loud.

  He didn’t love me enough to stay.

  * * *

  I didn’t call him. Didn’t text. Didn’t drive by his apartment. Over the next ten days, I did the best I could to put him out of my mind—deleted all his photos, threw out his toothbrush, told my friends and family it was over between us. (I think my mother was as upset as I was. “But we were doing so well,” she said tearfully.)

  I was furious with him. Sad for him. I missed him terribly. What was he doing? Had he stayed in town? Kept his job? Did he think about me? Did he miss me? What was he feeling? Every night I went to bed with a hollow ache inside me, and every morning it was a struggle to find the positive energy I needed to get through the day. But my students deserved a teacher who made class fun, especially art class, so I forced myself to be “on” when I had to be.

  It was agony.

  I spent a lot of time wondering what I could have done differently. Was this somehow my fault? Had I rushed it? Had the relationship been more one-sided than I realized? But no—he’d wanted to stay with me nearly every night. He’d taken me to meet his family. He’d called me his girlfriend first. This couldn’t be my fault.

  But that didn’t make the breakup any easier.

  At home, I put the house projects on hold and channeled my emotions into creative passion. I went to the antique bookstore, found an old volume of mythology that included the tale of Cupid and Psyche, and felt immediately inspired. At home, I began sketching a design based on Canova’s famous sculpture of Cupid and Psyche’s kiss.

  The work didn’t heal the wound in my heart—Cupid’s aim was never so good, nor his arrow so sharp—but it did bring some comfort, and at least I’d have another book to display at the art fair. I also made a list of local shops I thought might be interested in selling some pieces, and I gave myself a one-week deadline for approaching at least
two of them. Then I surprised myself by going to all five stores on the list—and three of them said yes!

  The other two said they weren’t busy enough right now but might be interested in the future. They gave me business cards and asked me to approach closer to summer, when they’d get busy again. It was much less painful than I’d anticipated, and gave me the confidence to start up my own shop on Etsy. Jaime helped me set it up and then took me out for dinner over the weekend to celebrate my new ventures.

  “So how does it feel?” she asked.

  “Good.” I smiled, grateful that I finally felt hopeful again. “Like I’m moving forward.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” She raised her glass of wine. “Cheers, babe.”

  I touched my glass to hers, took a drink and set it down. “And guess what else I decided?”

  “What?”

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to say out loud what I’d been thinking about for the last week. “I’m going to book a trip to Paris.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But what about the flying thing?”

  “I’m going to deal with it.” I sat up taller, feeling even more grit and determination return. Being with Theo had taught me that I liked the way I felt about myself when I stepped outside my comfort zone. Faced my fears. Put on the red lipstick. And watching him let his fear ruin us had forced me to think about all the ways I still let fear hold me back. “I’ve wanted to visit the museums in Paris since I was a little girl. Yes, I’m scared of flying, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anxiety keep me from making that dream a reality. I can’t go through life being afraid and careful all the time. At some point, I have to go for what I really want and trust in fate. What’s meant to be will be.”

  Jaime blinked at me. “I feel like I should applaud right now. This is the strongest you’ve sounded since the breakup for sure, maybe even ever.” She grabbed my wine glass. “What’s in here? I want some.”

  Laughing—God, that felt good—I took it back from her. “It’s not the wine. It’s just that I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. When I first met Theo, he said something to me I often repeat to myself. He said, ‘You don’t have to be anyone else. You just have to stop staring over the edge and jump.’”

  “Good advice.”

  Talking about it brought even more clarity. “You know, I think for so long I felt like there was something innate about me that wasn’t good enough, exciting enough, resilient enough, talented enough to put myself out there. I talked myself out of so many things because I looked at them as opportunities to fail, not as opportunities to succeed. I was so afraid to fall that I never let myself fly. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course it does.” Jaime reached out and put a hand over mine. “I agree one hundred percent, and I have known you a lot of years. As much as the breakup hurt, I think this relationship was good for you.”

  I nodded slowly. “I think so too. I just wish it hadn’t ended like that. Or at all. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Ten days.” I met her eyes, feeling mine get misty. “I miss him. When will I stop missing him?”

  She patted my hand. “I don’t know, sweetie. Give yourself more time, and don’t feel bad about missing him. You loved him—of course you miss him. I bet he’s just as miserable.”

  “Maybe.” Somehow that didn’t help. I didn’t wish him misery—I wanted him to be happy.

  “In fact, I bet he’s even more miserable since this is his fault. I was in his shoes once.” She shook her head. “It’s the pits.”

  “Yeah, but you weren’t like Theo.”

  “I wasn’t damaged like Theo, maybe, but I was stubborn as hell. It took me some time to come around. You never know.”

  Her tone carried a note of hope, but I wasn’t too optimistic. I wished I could turn back time and return to our snowed-in days at the cabin. We’d been so happy there.

  But I couldn’t. I had to move forward, but at least I would do it having more courage, more confidence, and more self-awareness than I’d had before.

  No matter what, I’d always have Theo to thank for that.

  Thirty-Eight

  Theo

  * * *

  The first few days after I broke things off with Claire were the darkest in my recent memory. A huge weight sat on my shoulders. My limbs felt heavier. A constant ache throbbed in my chest. I went to the gym in the morning, worked during the day, and sat at home every night, wallowing in misery and loneliness. At work I played a role, burying my sadness in order to appear friendly, helpful, knowledgeable, and caring.

  In truth, I didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

  Just Claire.

  At night, I thought about nothing but her, my head was full of all the things I loved and missed. Her kindness. Her sense of humor. Her laugh. Her lips curving into a smile. Her eyes. The way she talked about her students. The way she loved working with her hands. The way she got excited over little things like hot chocolate and snow and old books. The way she worried about being boring compared to her sister, as if there was anything boring about her.

  I’d lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, and remember the way she’d looked at me and touched me and kissed me and taken me inside her. Pretty soon I’d get hard, and I’d close my eyes, take my dick in my hand, and get myself off to the memory of her. But it wasn’t even a close second to being with her, and I never felt relief when it was over—just anger.

  Why did this fucking hurt so much? Hadn’t I done the right thing? Not only had I saved myself from a lot of heartbreak down the road, but I’d spared her, too. Now she was free to find the perfect guy she dreamed about all the time.

  But if I ever saw them together, I’d fucking take his head off.

  Everywhere I went and everything I saw seemed to remind me of her. Women with long hair. The granite slabs at the stoneworks. Anything flavored with sugar and cinnamon or chocolate. I couldn’t even drink a fucking lemonade without missing her.

  I didn’t bother to hide my mood from my brother when it was just the two of us on a job. He asked me a few times if I was OK in those early days, but I brushed him off. I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  A week after I’d walked out, he finally brought her up by name. “Did something happen with Claire?”

  We were on a lunch break from an installation job, sitting across from each other at a small booth in a sub shop. “Yeah. It’s done.”

  He paused. Took a bite of his sub. “Why?”

  I shrugged and took a bite of mine without even tasting it. I was unable to meet his eye but figured I’d test out an impassive mask. Act like I didn’t care. Maybe I’d convince myself too. “It was time.”

  “It was?” Aaron shrank back a little. “Didn’t look like it to me.”

  “Yeah, well. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

  He was silent for a minute or so, but I felt his knowing eyes on me. Sizing me up. Seeing me. “She break it off?”

  “No. I did.” I stuffed a few potato chips in my mouth.

  Aaron set his sandwich down and leaned his elbows on the table. “You bailed on her.”

  “So?”

  “And you did it not because it was time, or you don’t care about her, but because you do.”

  “Fuck off.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re fucking this up on purpose, Theo, and I don’t want you to do it.”

  I finally met his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Brothers look out for each other. And when they see each other making a big mistake, they speak up.”

  I threw my sandwich down on the wrapper and set my fists on either side of it. “Fine. You spoke up. Now let it go.”

  “No. I’ve watched you make too many bad decisions in your life to let this go. You want to tell me you don’t care about her? Fine. I’ll let it go. But I think you do, and I think you left her because you’re scared.�
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  “Fuck you, Aaron!” I was being too loud, and people were looking over at us, but I didn’t care. “Who are you to talk to me about leaving? You’re the one who left your wife and kids for two months—this time.”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down.” Aaron glanced over his shoulder and back at me. “You’re right. I have made mistakes. I did leave my wife and kids. And there isn’t a goddamn day that goes by I don’t regret it. I’d give anything to go back and do things differently, Theo, but I can’t. I don’t want to watch you make the same mistake.”

  “You know I told her she should leave?” I was being a spiteful dick, and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted someone to feel as bad as I did. “Every day I told her she should leave and take the kids away. I never understood why the hell she didn’t.”

  Aaron didn’t take the bait. “Because Josie’s not like you, Theo. She believes when you love someone, you stay.”

  I tried again. “Then she’s a fool. You’re only going to leave her again.”

  “I’m not. I made a promise to myself that I intend to keep. I had to face down a lot of monsters to get here, Theo, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

  I’d run out of insults to throw at him, and it was only making me madder that my brother was so calm. That he’d figured out how to keep a promise. That he trusted Josie—and himself—to stay. That he’d finally faced his monsters and come away stronger for it.

  Why was I the only one who couldn’t get a grip on my fear? Was it my fate to be alone for the rest of my life? I shoved out of the booth, dumped my trash, and went out to my car. Aaron came out a few minutes later, but we didn’t talk on the drive back to work or for the rest of the day. I knew I owed him an apology but I was too busy being pissed off and sorry for myself to offer one.

  That night, I lay in bed and thought, fuck it. I don’t need this grief. And no one here needs me. I should just leave. Take off again. Hit the open road like I used to and see where it takes me.