Page 41 of Committed to You

He doesn’t answer.

The car stops, and the driver gets out and opens our door.

I kiss him on the cheek. “Have a good night and a safe flight. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“I’ll come up with you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Vivian, let me come up.”

“No. You can’t give me what I need, Chase.”

“I can.”

“No. Getting me off in a bar isn’t what I need.”

He sighs. “Then tell me what you need, Vivian.”

“You to stop ripping my heart out.”

His eyes grow wide. “How am I doing that?”

“You do it every time I see or talk to you. And I don’t need it.”

“Then tell me what I need to do to stop ripping your heart out.”

“You, with no one else. Just you committed to me.”

He clenches his jaw again.

“That’s what I thought. Safe travels, Chase.”

9

Chase

I’m rippingher heart out?My own feels like it’s being ripped to shreds, hearing her tell me that.

Vivian gets out of the car, and I’m tempted to follow her, but she’s made her stipulation clear. And she seems to think I’m rotating girls in and out of my house daily, which isn’t the case, either.

Sure, I’ve had several friends with benefits at the same time in the past, but it’s not like it was a weekly thing. It wasn’t scheduled like Vivian seemed to think it was.

She asked me if I had cut it off with Meredith, and I didn’t lie. I hadn’t. Friends with benefits meant you never had to have those conversations. You weren’t in a relationship so there was no breakup required. But that didn’t mean I had been seeing her, either.

Wracking my brain, I try to remember when I last saw Meredith. I can’t remember, so I pull out my phone and check our text messages.

I scroll through several months’ worth where I’m blowing her off. Excuse after excuse, telling her not to come over. But she keeps texting me every Wednesday and sometimes on Thursday to double-check if it’s still a bad day.

Instead of telling her I’m no longer interested, I string her along.

“Maybe next week. I’ll let you know if my schedule eases up,” I typed.

“I can come over late if you want.”

“Sorry. I’m exhausted when I get home. I’m sure I won’t be any fun. I’ll contact you next week.”

I never texted her, and she always tried again.

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