November 9
Page 54
Fallon takes a deep breath and releases it before turning around. When she locks eyes with mine, it’s evident how much of her I just destroyed. My knee-jerk reaction is to make it better, to tell her how I really feel. How—since the moment I kissed Jordyn for the first time—I’ve been nothing but a confused mess.
Actually, I’ve been a confused mess since the second Fallon pulled away in that cab last year.
“Are you in love with her?” She immediately covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head in regret for asking the question. “Please don’t answer that.” She walks toward me and drops her eyes to the floor. “I need to leave,” she says as she passes me.
I back up until I’m pressed against the door, holding it shut. “Not like this. Please, don’t leave yet. Give me a chance to explain.”
I can’t let her leave without her understanding the whole situation. But even more so, I’m hoping she’ll explain what the hell happened last year and why she’s acting like this news is actually affecting her like it is.
“Explain what?” she says quietly. “Do you want me to stand here and listen to you explain how you didn’t mean to fall in love with your dead brother’s wife? Do you expect me to argue with you when you tell me it isn’t just about what you want anymore, but about what’s better for your nephew? Do you expect me to apologize for lying to you last year when I said I didn’t want to love you?”
Each word of the last sentence to leave her mouth is like weights bearing down on me, sinking me to the bottom of a lake. She lied to me?
“I get it, Ben. It’s my fault. I’m the one who walked away last year when you tried to love me.”
She tries to reach around me for the door handle, but I move to block her. I pull her to my side, wrapping my free hand around the back of her head and pressing her face to my shoulder. I press my lips against the side of her head, trying not to be affected by the way she feels in my arms. She grips my shirt and I feel her begin to cry again. I want to pull her closer, hold her tighter in my arms, but Oliver prevents me from doing that in more ways than one.
I want to say something that will comfort her, but at the same time I’m so pissed at her. At how carelessly she threw around my heart last year when I handed it to her. And how she’s doing it again now that it’s too late.
It’s too late.
Oliver begins to squirm in my arms, so I’m forced to release her so that he doesn’t wake up. She uses the opportunity to slip around me and out the bathroom door.
I follow her out of the bathroom and watch as she grabs her purse from our booth and heads straight for the door. I head to the booth and grab the diaper bag. Our food is still sitting on the table, but I think it’s safe to say we won’t be eating it. I drop cash on the table and head outside.
She’s next to a car, fumbling around in her purse. By the time she retrieves her keys, I’m standing next to her. I yank the keys out of her hands and walk toward my car, which is parked right next to hers.
“Ben!” she yells. “Give me my keys!”
I unlock my car and crank it. I roll down the windows and then move to the backseat and strap Oliver in his car seat. When I’m positive he’s still asleep, I walk back to her car.
“You can’t leave hating me,” I say, putting the keys back in her hand. “Not after everything we’ve been—”
“I don’t hate you, Ben,” she interjects. Her voice is offended and there are still tears streaming down her cheeks. “This was part of the deal, wasn’t it?” She wipes at her eyes, almost angrily, and then she continues. “We live our lives. We date other people. We fall in love with our dead brother’s wives. And in the end, we see what happens. Well, we’ve reached the end, Ben. A little early, but it’s definitely the end.”
I look past her, too ashamed to make eye contact with her. “We still have two more years, Fallon. We don’t have to end it today.”
She shakes her head. “I know I promised, but . . . I can’t. There’s no way in hell I’m putting myself through this again. You have no idea what this feels like,” she says, holding her hand to her chest.
“Actually, Fallon. I know exactly what it feels like.”
I peg her with my stare, wanting her to see that I’m not taking all the blame for this. If she wouldn’t have walked away last year and completely devastated me, I wouldn’t have spent the majority of the year resenting her. I would have never put myself in a position with anyone—much less Jordyn—to risk what I could have had with Fallon. But I thought Fallon only felt a fraction of what I felt for her.
She has no idea how heartbroken she left me. She has no idea that Jordyn was there for me when she wasn’t. I was there for Jordyn when Kyle wasn’t. And after losing two people we both loved, only later to be united with Oliver . . . it wasn’t something we planned. I’m not even sure I wanted it. But it happened, and now I’m the only father Oliver knows. And why does it all feel so wrong now? Why does it feel like I somehow fucked up my life even more?
Fallon pushes around me to try and open the door to her car. And that’s when it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I can’t breathe.
I don’t know why it took me this long to notice. I grab her hand and squeeze it before she opens the door. The quiet plea forces her to pause and look up at me.
I look at her car for a beat and then back at her. “Why did you drive here today?”
Actually, I’ve been a confused mess since the second Fallon pulled away in that cab last year.
“Are you in love with her?” She immediately covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head in regret for asking the question. “Please don’t answer that.” She walks toward me and drops her eyes to the floor. “I need to leave,” she says as she passes me.
I back up until I’m pressed against the door, holding it shut. “Not like this. Please, don’t leave yet. Give me a chance to explain.”
I can’t let her leave without her understanding the whole situation. But even more so, I’m hoping she’ll explain what the hell happened last year and why she’s acting like this news is actually affecting her like it is.
“Explain what?” she says quietly. “Do you want me to stand here and listen to you explain how you didn’t mean to fall in love with your dead brother’s wife? Do you expect me to argue with you when you tell me it isn’t just about what you want anymore, but about what’s better for your nephew? Do you expect me to apologize for lying to you last year when I said I didn’t want to love you?”
Each word of the last sentence to leave her mouth is like weights bearing down on me, sinking me to the bottom of a lake. She lied to me?
“I get it, Ben. It’s my fault. I’m the one who walked away last year when you tried to love me.”
She tries to reach around me for the door handle, but I move to block her. I pull her to my side, wrapping my free hand around the back of her head and pressing her face to my shoulder. I press my lips against the side of her head, trying not to be affected by the way she feels in my arms. She grips my shirt and I feel her begin to cry again. I want to pull her closer, hold her tighter in my arms, but Oliver prevents me from doing that in more ways than one.
I want to say something that will comfort her, but at the same time I’m so pissed at her. At how carelessly she threw around my heart last year when I handed it to her. And how she’s doing it again now that it’s too late.
It’s too late.
Oliver begins to squirm in my arms, so I’m forced to release her so that he doesn’t wake up. She uses the opportunity to slip around me and out the bathroom door.
I follow her out of the bathroom and watch as she grabs her purse from our booth and heads straight for the door. I head to the booth and grab the diaper bag. Our food is still sitting on the table, but I think it’s safe to say we won’t be eating it. I drop cash on the table and head outside.
She’s next to a car, fumbling around in her purse. By the time she retrieves her keys, I’m standing next to her. I yank the keys out of her hands and walk toward my car, which is parked right next to hers.
“Ben!” she yells. “Give me my keys!”
I unlock my car and crank it. I roll down the windows and then move to the backseat and strap Oliver in his car seat. When I’m positive he’s still asleep, I walk back to her car.
“You can’t leave hating me,” I say, putting the keys back in her hand. “Not after everything we’ve been—”
“I don’t hate you, Ben,” she interjects. Her voice is offended and there are still tears streaming down her cheeks. “This was part of the deal, wasn’t it?” She wipes at her eyes, almost angrily, and then she continues. “We live our lives. We date other people. We fall in love with our dead brother’s wives. And in the end, we see what happens. Well, we’ve reached the end, Ben. A little early, but it’s definitely the end.”
I look past her, too ashamed to make eye contact with her. “We still have two more years, Fallon. We don’t have to end it today.”
She shakes her head. “I know I promised, but . . . I can’t. There’s no way in hell I’m putting myself through this again. You have no idea what this feels like,” she says, holding her hand to her chest.
“Actually, Fallon. I know exactly what it feels like.”
I peg her with my stare, wanting her to see that I’m not taking all the blame for this. If she wouldn’t have walked away last year and completely devastated me, I wouldn’t have spent the majority of the year resenting her. I would have never put myself in a position with anyone—much less Jordyn—to risk what I could have had with Fallon. But I thought Fallon only felt a fraction of what I felt for her.
She has no idea how heartbroken she left me. She has no idea that Jordyn was there for me when she wasn’t. I was there for Jordyn when Kyle wasn’t. And after losing two people we both loved, only later to be united with Oliver . . . it wasn’t something we planned. I’m not even sure I wanted it. But it happened, and now I’m the only father Oliver knows. And why does it all feel so wrong now? Why does it feel like I somehow fucked up my life even more?
Fallon pushes around me to try and open the door to her car. And that’s when it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I can’t breathe.
I don’t know why it took me this long to notice. I grab her hand and squeeze it before she opens the door. The quiet plea forces her to pause and look up at me.
I look at her car for a beat and then back at her. “Why did you drive here today?”
