Page 2 of Stick With Me
“So, I saw something online today…” I pause to take a deep breath, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks.
“Oh yeah, what about?”
Seriously?
“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”
He eyes me quizzically, like he’s trying to figure out if I know what’s coming. Then, glancing down at his phone, his expression shifts dramatically. He drops the unpeeled banana into the blender, milk splashing up the sides, and looks back at me with wide eyes. “Shit. Today’s the twenty-second.”
Until this very moment, until I saw the truth written on his face, I couldn’t believe the article was true. But now, there’s no denying it. He’s breaking up with me. Via some puff piece article. It would almost be funny if I weren’t lightheaded with anger.
“I meant to talk to you before the article went live, but I’ve been so busy—” he starts.
“You mean the one naming you hockey’s ‘most eligible bachelor’?” I cut him off, adding air quotes for emphasis.
He rounds the counter, taking the stool next to mine. His voice softens. “We need to talk.”
Understatement of the century.
“So you’ve said.” I shift my chair away. If he touches me, I may lose the reins on my anger, which are about as thin as dental floss at the moment.
“I think we need to take a step back. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I’m just not ready for marriage. We’re still young, and I got caught up in trying to make everythinglookperfect. I rushed into the engagement, and now I need some space to figure things out… on my own.”
“You’d like us to remain good friends? And for us to split amicably?” I ask, quoting the article.
“Well, yeah,” he says, his brows knitting together. “I only wish you the best,” he adds, sounding like he’s reciting a line from an advice column on how to break up and still be friends with your ex.
I can’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbles up. It’s either that or I scream.
“Hannah, I didn’t know how to tell you. I still love you; you know that. But everything has happened so fast, and I need a breather.”
Six years of building a life together doesn’t seem fast to me. We’ve been dating since my freshman year of college.
“So, you’re breaking up with me?” I ask, even though it’s clear that’s what’s happening. I need him to say the words. I wish he would have said them before I had to read them, along with the rest of the world.
He shifts in his seat and thrums his fingers on the counter. His eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at me. “Uh, I’d like to call it a break and not a breakup. Time apart. An intermission. Experience all the things we should before settling down.” He finally turns his body toward me to meet my eyes. “You know you’re my end goal, babe. I just want to take a timeout.”
I stare at him, stunned. I don’t recognize the man looking back at me. My heart races and no breathing exercise or positive mantra is going to slow it down. “Since we’re using hockey analogies, let me make sure I’m getting this straight. You’d like to ‘shoot your puck in other nets’ then come back to me and live happily ever after? Am I getting that right?”
“Don’t be that way,” he whines, bringing his forehead to rest on his fist.
I put my life on hold for the man sitting next to me. For years, I set aside my plans to support him—his career, his goals, his dreams. I thought we were a team, that all the sacrifices I made would eventually be met with his support in return. But now, he’s throwing it all away. I thought he was my future, and I was his.
Turns out, I was wrong.
“Say something.” He runs his fingers through his dirty blond hair that matches mine. His hand moves down to his neck where he rubs the tension out, as ifhe’sthe one having a hard time with this.
There’s a ringing in my ears, and my stomach twists in knots as a cold sweat creeps over my skin. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. I’m so stupid.” The words barely scratch the surface of the storm raging inside me.
“I’m notdoingthis to you, Hannah. I think this is best for both of us,” he says, his voice frustratingly calm.
“I sure as hell didn’t choose to spend this Wednesday morning calling off our engagement!” My voice cracks, and Jace’s eyes widen. I don’t curse, and I never raise my voice, but what does he expect?
“I did, however, choose to put you first for the past six years, so that’s on me. Now look where I am.” I gesture around the sterile apartment. “None of this is mine. I’m twenty-four, and what do I have to show for it?” The fight in my voice fades as the reality starts to sink in.
Jace’s brows scrunch together, clearly not following my train of thought. To be fair, I’m barely keeping up with it myself. My breath rushes out, and I try to pull in more air, but it doesn’t reach my lungs. It feels like I’m sucking oxygen in through a straw.
It’s not just him I’m losing. It’s the life I’ve built here. When you take away Jace, what’s left? My job, my social life—they all revolve around him.
