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I smiled more genuinely this time and nodded my agreement. She knew me too well...
I also couldn’t let her be the one to do all the hard work here. I owed her that, at least.
I pushed my plate away and turned to face her. “The week we spent here with your friends kinda showed me that we’re not really in the same place. If you know what I mean.”
She nodded, and her sad smile hurt me in ways I wasn’t quite prepared for.
“You deserve someone who will treat you better than I can,” I added. “And I don’t think I’m that person. And I’m sorry for that. I wish I was. I never meant to hurt you or to give you false hope. I kinda thought we were good together, in the beginning...”
“We were,” she said quietly. “As friends, maybe?”
“I hope your mom won’t hate me.”
Becca laughed. “She could never. She loves you, Blake.”
I sighed, because damn, I’d now hurt both her kids.
I wanted to mention Luke. I wanted to talk about him, but damn... I couldn’t make myself say the words.
“I don’t want things to be awkward,” I murmured. “Between us. I hope we can still hang out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Blake, it’s not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into. Like Vana said. She knew what she was getting herself into with Luke, like I knew with you. We would always be your second priority. In the beginning, that was enough. But now...” She shrugged. “I need someone who’ll put me first.”
“That’s fair.”
And it was, one hundred percent.
“So what will you do?” she asked, looking around the kitchen. “I’m surprised you came here, to be honest. When Jeremy texted me that you were here, I just assumed you’d go home.”
Home.
I shook my head. “I think I’ll move into this place,” I said, needing to clear my throat. “Or sell it? I don’t even know.”
Becca stared at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it doesn’t really feel like a home to me. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t spent much time here; I don’t know. Maybe I should give it a month or so.”
“Blake,” she said gently.
I didn’t understand her concern. “What? It’s just a house...”
“You and Luke . . .”
“What about us?” I said, standing up. I collected my plate and glass and carried them to the sink. I picked up my phone from the counter and saw I’d sent Luke more texts.
Hey call me please
Hey asshole text me back
I miss you
Sorry for whatever I did
He hadn’t replied. Hadn’t even opened them.
“He’s not talking to me, and he asked me for some time. He needed time away from me, and that included his house, so here I am.”
Becca’s expression went from sad and concerned to understanding. “That explains why you got yourself blackout drunk for three days.”
