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In a twisted way, I can see Molly’s point.
“But what does it say about me if I forgive him? If I take him back after all of it? Doesn’t it say I’m a pushover?”
“I think it says that you love him enough to try and make things work. Like a real couple would. I think it says that a life without his love would be unacceptable.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “Bridge, if you’re able to forgive him and move on, I think it says that your relationship can withstand anything life throws at you.”
WILL
He’s tried everything he could think of to get her to talk to him, but nothing’s worked. Will hasn’t been able to get Bridget to answer the phone, call him back, or reply to his messages. After a few weeks, he’s realized she would never get back to him. And why would she? She deserves better.
Which is why he picked today to be the day he says goodbye. Goodbye to her and to the life they maybe could’ve had together if he’d been honest from the beginning.
He doesn’t deserve happiness—that’s for sure—but Bridget deserves the world. She deserves peace.
Will won’t move on from this—he can’t. You don’t get two loves of your life. Bridget was it for him and he’s just going to have to live with the fact that he’s lost her forever.
And though just the thought of that makes his knees weak from the emotional toll it’s taken on him, he’s decided to take a page out of Bridget’s handbook and look at the bright side for once. The silver linings:
First, even though he lost it, Will found his love—something many people spend a lifetime searching for. He will always treasure every moment he and Bridget spent together even if she will forever be the one who got away.
Second, despite accepting he’s destined to live a life of solitude, he can now focus on what’s next for him. Relationships will no longer be a distraction for him because there’s no way he could ever love anyone the way he loved Bridget. And if that kind of love isn’t possible, he doesn’t want it, anyway. Not when he’s known what it’sreallylike to love someone.
Third, Will is definitely never working for his grandfather again. He’s spent the last few weeks trying to figure out what he wants to do now that he’s freed of the shackles that bound him so tightly and is still coming up short, but he at least knows that he’ll never go back to the family business. And he’s ecstatic about it.
Yes, these are the good things he can focus on now to get him out of bed in the morning. Still, he’d give it up in a second if it meant being with her.
33
MY DELIVERY GUY HATES ME
My conversation with Molly about Will has been playing in my head on a loop for days. I was able to forgive her, but not Will? A man who’s loved me more than anyone ever has. The only manI’veever truly loved.
And maybe that was the reason I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. Because it hurt so much. But was I really willing to let a potential life partner go because of a mistake? A big one, no doubt, but one where the intent wasn’t a malicious one?
He’d proven several times over in the past that he was dependable and kind. Even with the whole vet bill thing—though misguided—he did it so I wouldn’t have to keep struggling. Because he sees me and could tell just how tired I am of things falling apart all around me—even if I’ve been in denial about it myself.
Sigh.
I don’t know much of anything anymore. All I know is my head is a mess, and my heart is confused and bruised, and I miss him like crazy.
Though talking to Molly was incredibly helpful, ironically enough, he’s the only one I want to hear from right now. And I guess that just goes to show how supportive Will has always been with me that I still ache to talk to him.
I contemplate all this as I serve myself a Diet Coke while I wait for my Chinese food. It was a long day at work, but it’s finally the weekend, and I’m mildly excited for it. I don’t have big plans other than completing a few projects I started last weekend—a threadbare Missoni knit dress that can use a revival, a Halston wide-leg white silk pant that’s unfortunately yellowed with age and needs to be lightened, and a pair of vintage Doc’s from the eighties that need a good buffing and maybe a cool paint job—but I’m looking forward to it.
When my intercom’s buzzer goes off, I very nicely ask the delivery man to bring it up.
“No, ma’am,” he says.Ouch. Ma’am? Really?“Six floors is too much. You come down and get it.”
“No, I totally understand. And normally I would. But, see, I would really appreciate it if you could bring it up because I’m exhausted—I’ve been on my feet all day—and was wondering whether just this once you’d be able to make an exception and?—”
“Ma’am.” Oh my god with the ma’am. “What do you think I do for a living? Sit in a comfy chair all day?”
“I—I guess not. I’m sure you’ve probably been all around the city delivering food, huh?”
“Exactly. So why don’t you come and get your food? If not, I’ll leave it here on the stoop but I am not coming up.”
“Please. I know it’s?—”
“I got it,” a familiar voice cuts through our discussion. “I mean. If that’s okay with you, Bridge. For me to come up.”
