Page 142 of The Rebound
He looks like I just slapped him.
“Not now,” I continue. “But one day. Maybe.”
“Okay,” he says slowly.
“We dated for three years. Three years together and we never talked about that, not once.”
“If you want children we can discuss it, Abby.”
“But that’s not the point.” I fight the urge to drop my head into my hands. “Don’t you think that’s something we should have covered? Who marries someone without thinking about something like that? We never properly let each other into our lives. We don’t know anything about each other. Not really.”
“Excuse me?” He laughs a little. “Abby, you know me better than most.”
“But not what counts. I know how hard you work. I know how you like your coffee in the morning and I know where you like to buy your suits and what cars you like to drive and where you see yourself professionally in five years but I don’t knowyou. We talk but we don’ttalk.”
“So let’stalk. We have time, don’t we? Talk to me. Learn me. Because I obviously need to learn more about you. I know you haven’t forgiven me for what I did. I wouldn’t forgive me either. But I’m asking you to give us a chance. I’m asking you to try. Come back to New York with me. You don’t have to take the job at Hanson’s. You don’t have to move in with me. You can move in with Jess or I can help you find somewhere new. I’d like to do that if you let me. And maybe I don’t really know you, but I know you don’t do well sitting still. You never have. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you. You can’t stay here.”
“Number three—”
“Abby—”
“I don’t love you anymore.”
My words ring out between us. I’ve surprised him again. For three years I was convinced he knew my every thought and twice in two minutes he looks at me like I’m a stranger.
“And,” I continue, when he doesn’t say anything. “The reason I don’t need an interview at Hanson’s is because I’ve got a new job.”
His eyebrows pull together, but this is safer territory. This he can deal with. “Where?”
“Stewarts.”
“They’d be a good fit for you,” he says. “Smaller but… New York?”
“Toronto.”
He blinks, ruining his poker face. “Have you said yes?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will.”
I nod. I will.
He watches me for a moment, analyzing me. “Toronto’s a ninety-minute flight from New York.”
“Tyler—”
“You loved me before,” he says as if it’s such a simple thing.
“You don’t marry someone because you hope you’ll love them someday.”
“No,” he murmurs. “I guess not.” He takes a breath. “So that’s it?”
That’s it. I remove the ring from my purse. “I want to give this back to you.”
“Keep it,” he says, but we both know I won’t.
I stand and after a moment he does too. We meet each other halfway.
