Page 80 of What I'm Looking For

“So it’s back towe’re doomed. But now it’s because I’m not allowed to make more money than you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” My throat’s tight. I turn away, pacing back and forth. “But seriously. Can you really look ahead five years from now and see us together? You’re going to be even more successful, making even more money. And yeah, I might be working a lot and maybe I’ll land another commercial or two, but I’m not giving up the theater. That’s not going to fly when you want to settle down and have kids and I can’t support you.”

She’s looking at me like I’m not even speaking English. “Who says that’s what I want?”

“Come on, Kate. You’re going to get there at some point. Your biological clock will go off and you’ll want kids and you’ll want to take care of those kids, so you’ll need to be with a guy who can take care of you.”

She bounces up off the couch to mirror my pacing. “Where do you get off telling me what I want?” Whirling to face me, she looks like sparks might fly out of her head. “I don’t even know what I want. Why can’tImake the money andyoustay home with the kids?”

I stop moving. “Because… nobody does that.”

Her hands go up. “Well, why not?”

I shrug. “Because… you have the boobs?”

“Isn’t that what formula is for? It’s not like I have any special skills in the area besides having breasts and a uterus. I’ve never changed a diaper. Have you?”

“Well, yes, but?—”

“So what the heck? And why are we talking about this now? Because you don’t want to meet my family because you’re afraid they’ll judge you for being an actor? Why do you care?”

“Because I do.”

“Well, it looks like you’re not going to meet them anyway. So nothing to worry about.” She hurls herself back on the couch and stares at the blank television set.

My hands are in my hair, wanting to pull it out. “I just… I just want you to be realistic.”

“Do you want to break up? Is that what this is all about?” she asks, her voice so soft I can’t read what’s behind her words.

“No.” Suddenly, my heart’s trying to escape via my throat. “But… maybe it is a good time to think about it all. Over the weekend. Make sure we want to stick with this when it probably doesn’t have a good long-term… prognosis.”

I’m afraid to move. I’m not sure if what I’m saying is what I mean. Or really want. But I feel like I should say it. I think. This whole thing just got away from me.

She’s up and halfway to the kitchen. “That’s fine. Let’s take some time. We’ve hardly seen each other lately anyway. So, it was fun, but now it’s over and?—”

“That’s not what I said!” My eyes follow her but I’m still frozen in place. “I said let’s take the weekend to reevaluate things.”

“Yep. Well, maybe you should go now.” She’s walking all over the apartment, touching random objects but not landing anywhere. “I have to… pack. And finish up some work stuff too, and?…”

My heart slams against my ribs in panic, making a Kate-shaped bruise with each blow.

She just opens the front door and avoids making eye contact. “Have a good weekend, and maybe we’ll talk later. Sometime. After the weekend.”

I take a breath and force my feet to move, easing toward her like she’s a spooked horse. “Kate. I like you. A lot. I like spending time with you and… everything. Just, think about what you’re really looking for in a relationship.” I hesitate, not sure what else to say. “And I will too. Okay?”

She’s already hunkered down deep inside, past where I can see. “I said I would. Bye.”

A clenched jaw barely keeping my shit together, I nod, grab my backpack, and walk out the door.

Chapter22

BEEP. Thursday, 8:03 a.m.

Kate, sweetheart? I’m so sorry to hear that your, uh, friend can’t come to the wedding. We’re all looking forward to seeing you anyway. Don’t forget we have salon appointments Friday afternoon and then the rehearsal dinner Friday night. Oh—can you call me back and leave your flight information again? I’m not sure who will be coming to get you, but we’ll figure it out. All right. See you tomorrow. Love you, honey.

KATE

Thursday morning it’s a struggle to stay on task. My emotions are all over the place. Frustration with Will and his pigheadedness over money is topped by anger at myself for picking a fight and then not knowing how to stop it. Grief rounds out the list. I’m already so attached to him that it’s like my mortgaged-to-the-hilt heart is being repossessed.

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