Page 31 of Love is an Open Book
Joe frowns in sympathy, which makes me feel like shit for not being honest. “What went wrong?”
“We want different things.” A cheer goes up from the stadium and we turn to see the Cubs have scored another run. We both curse under our breath; Joe’s a White Sox fan and rooting for the Brewers like me and Scott.
The people ahead of us step up to order, and he says, “Sorry to hear it, but I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t dated anyone lately. Not since Mia ended things with her last boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I have.” There was the disastrous blind date, and Morris set me up with someone. We went out a few times, but it was clear she was just trying to make him jealous.
“No one long-term.” He looks over at me, expression serious. “I was starting to think you were staying single for a reason.”
It only takes a second for me to connect the dots. “You think I’m staying single for Mia?” If he’s noticed something, does that mean she has, too?
He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve never seen you look at any of your girlfriends the way you look at her.”
“Because I haven’t met the right person.”
“Maybe you have,” he says.
I drop my eyes to the floor, popcorn crunching under my shoes as people jostle into line behind us. “She doesn’t want that.” He knows all about Mia’s policy on dating friends.
“Shedidn’twant that,” he says. “People change. She’s been single for what, almost two years?” Another cheer, but neither of us bothers to check the scoreboard. “Hell of a long time, man.”
“You think she’s...” I don’t trust myself to say the words aloud.
“Holding out for you?” He shifts to make way for a passing group of teenagers. “Don’t know, man. But wouldn’t now be the perfect time to find out?”
The next cashier opens up, sparing me from having to answer. We place our orders and stand off to the side of the counter, waiting.
“Did you know Sera and I have been attending relationship retreats?” Joe raises his voice to be heard over the pulsing beat of a player’s walk-up song. “We started a few months ago, to makesure we’re in the habit of making time for each other when the baby comes.”
Grateful he’s left off badgering me about Mia, I say, “Good for you. Is it helpful?”
He nods. “Especially for communication. One thing I realized is how often I would choose to stay quiet about something, rather than risk messing with the status quo. But when I told her, I found out Sera wanted me to speak up. She’d been waiting for it.”
By now I can tell what he’s getting at. “I can’t just ask Mia out.” Except I did, kind of, and it got twisted into faking things. None of which I can get Joe’s advice on, and that sucks.
He picks up our beers and hands me one. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not that simple. Think how awkward it would be for you and Sera if we broke up.” Not to mention how hard it would be to tell Mia I wanted to stop pretending, or that I never was in the first place.
“The alternative is one or both of you finds a partner and you drift apart.” He takes a long drink of his brimming cup, and I follow suit, not wanting to end up with beer spilled down my front on the way back to our seats. “Either way,” he continues, “this doesn’t end up with you staying best friends for life.”
“That’s the old bullshit of men and women can’t be friends.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t stay friends with someone you’re in love with. Not forever.”
My first impulse is to deny it. “I’ve been Mia’s friend for almost a decade.”
Joe stays quiet, and I think maybe I’ve finally won the argument, but then realize I’ve denied the wrong part. I said I could stay friends with Mia, not that I don’t love her.
Because I do.
Eleven
Mia
