Page 100 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
A man hovers in my peripheral vision, waiting to sit down. I nod toward him and Will reluctantly stands. “I’ll wait for you at the bar.”
My next date is blond and bearded; I don’t even catch his name. I try to focus on what he’s saying, but I can’t help glancing across at Will, my mind raking over his words. I can’t let him stay for me. He wants this job. He deserves it. Could we keep something going if he left? My mind runs through all the possibilities, doing the same calculations I did last night, trying to produce a different outcome. It would be unfair to keep him tied to Bath. Itwould be selfish; he would come to resent me. I can’t have another man resent me for holding him back.
When the last date finally ends, the host invites us to mingle and stay for drinks at the bar. Loretta is arm in arm with Roger and pulls him toward me, waving her bonus drink vouchers. “This place smells like a giant’s armpit,” she cries. “Did you meet Roger? Isn’t he a darling? We’re going to down these, then go for a tipple at Circo Cellar. Are you coming?”
“I’m afraid she has plans with me,” says Will, sweeping in beside me, his eyes now slightly bloodshot.How much has he had to drink?
“Hello, Will darling, I didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” Loretta says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. I forgot they know each other.
“It isn’t,” he says. “I’m only here for Anna.”
“I’ll get queuing at the bar,” says Roger, while Loretta looks back and forth between Will and me with undisguised delight.
“Will you excuse us a minute?” I say to Loretta, taking Will’s hand and pulling him toward a fire exit. “We’ll be right back.”
“I thought that would never end,” he says with a sigh, bending down to nuzzle into my neck, then reaching a hand around my waist. Once we’re in the quiet of the corridor I spin around and step back, creating space between us. “I’ve missed you.”
“When did you find out about the job?” I ask him.
“Today. It wasn’t until they offered it to me that I realized I don’t want to go anymore,” he says, reaching out to stroke my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Because of me?” I ask, feeling a wave of nausea.
“What other reason would there be?” he says archly.
“That’s a lot of pressure,” I say, drawing back from his hand, trying to put space between us, because his touch makes it so much harder to think straight.
“I know it’s crazy, and the worst timing, and maybe I’ll ruin my life and never escape this town,” he says, his lips loose with alcohol. “But when you’ve fallen in love with someone, you don’t have a choice. You choose them.”
He’s in love with me?That’s the booze talking. With curdling clarity, I realize I’m not going to be able to talk him out of this by being rational.
“That’s not what this is, Will,” I say, my voice firm and measured. “We’ve been caught up in the thrill of sneaking around. I’m flattered, but honestly, it’s just good sex, it isn’t something you change your life plans for.”
He flinches, drawing back, but after a brief pause, he says, “It isn’t ‘just’ anything, and don’t tell me how I feel.” His eyes flash with anger. “I know you feel it too. You felt it in the woods.”
I stare up at him, trying to hide the truth. My throat burns as I force out more words. “I’m sorry, but this was just a fun distraction for me. I’m not looking to be in a relationship, I was clear about that from the start.”
That does it. His face falls, and his eyes well with tears. “That’s not true, you just feel bad about me giving up the job, but that’s my decision to make,” he says, his voice a whisper. He presses a palm against the wall beside my head, leaning toward me, searching my face for the truth, and I try to drink him in, every inch of his face, knowing this will be the last time I see him like this.
“It’s too deep, too fast, Will.” I want to die saying it, playing on his biggest insecurity, on a confidence he shared. It feels unnecessarily cruel. But it works.
He drops my arm as though I’ve burned him. All the light in his eyes disappears. He backs away from me, then turns to leave, striding out through the half-empty bar.
Walking home, numb to the evening chill, I can’t help doubting myself. Can something that feels so awful have been the rightthing to do? I could call him now, take it all back. But by the time I have walked home, I have convinced myself that it was my only option. Not just for Will’s sake, but for mine too.
I’ve been in a relationship where I’ve been loved reluctantly, stayed with reluctantly, and it doesn’t feel good; it doesn’t end well. I was a broken shell when Dan left. Piece by piece I’ve put myself back together, I’ve regained control of my life, of my heart. This last month with Will, I’ve felt that control slipping away. I refuse to make myself vulnerable to that kind of pain again.
Google searches:
What’s more painful, heartache or gangrene?
Pictures of gangrene
Uplifting books about being alone and being fine
*Orders Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown*
Chapter 33
