He let out a puff of breath. “Maybe I didn’t want you to know.”
“Because?”
“Because I knew you didn’t feel that way.”
“So you knew I had no idea,” I threw back at him. “And just now you spouted off because—”
“Of course not! I really did think you knew. Even if I was never explicit, even if I never said the exact words in the exact tone. It never occurred to me that after all these years, you hadn’t guessed. It’s not like I’m a good actor, Libby.” He stared at me with an intensity that made me rock back on one foot. “You think I would have chosen to tell you like this? Right now? You have way too much going on for you to worry about me and my stupid hang-ups. I thought you knew and that you were fine with it and it was all just no big deal.”
I took several shallow breaths as his words settled into the cracks in my brain. “You’re speaking in present tense.”
His chin pulled back. “What?”
“You didn’t say the hang-ups you used to have.”
He sucked in a breath and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Libby, we really don’t have to do this right now.”
“Do what? Talk about the fact that our friendship isn’t what I thought it was?”
“Why did you ask?”
“Ask what?” I demanded, derailed by this change of topic.
“Why did you ask why I kissed you if you didn’t want to know the answer?”
“I—” Why had I asked? “Because…I’ve never understood it. It was the one anomaly in our relationship. And…and…”
“This doesn’t change anything,” Sean interrupted, clearly taking pity on me. “You’re still you and I’m still me. Nothing is changing. I know you don’t feel the same way.”
His assumption irked me even more. “And how would you know that?”
“Because…” He trailed off as he studied my face.
“Did you ever ask?”
Several beats of silence followed as his eyebrows twitched in confusion. “Am I wrong?” he asked quietly.
“Of course not! I don’t…” My mind stumbled and lurched over the idea. “I don’t…” Did I? I loved Jonas. I was desperately in love with my dead husband. I knew that. That was true.
But.
The possibility of having bigger feelings for Sean was…it was…
“Libby?” Sean asked, his face vulnerable and begging for an answer.
I couldn’t lie, so the awful truth was, “I don’t know!” I yelled it, my face flushing with the admission.
Silence.
“I don’t know,” I started rambling. “I didn’t feel that way—at first, before, in high school. And since then I’ve never had the space to even ask myself the question. I was in survival mode while you self-destructed. Then I was married to a man I adored. A man who put me back together after I dismantled myself for you. And now I’m—this.” I swept my hands in front of my body, indicating the belly, the tears, the worn-out human I’d become. “A broken, pregnant widow. I’m riding two roller coasters simultaneously. The grief and the pregnancy hormones. So I DON’T KNOW.”
I felt cut open, like he was looking inside a gash that had opened across my heart. I should have listened to him. We shouldn’t have talked about it. I should have just gone to my corner and let the information sit. Instead I watched as his eyes lit with a fire I hadn’t seen in him before. His gaze dropped to my mouth for the briefest of seconds and when it returned to my eyes I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“You’re right,” I said, turning away. “We shouldn’t be talking about this right now.” I fled to the door. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Do you want me to come with—”
“No!”
I slammed the door on my way out.
Before I got to the end of the street, I had pulled out my phone and tapped on Naomi’s name.
“Hey, Libby.”
“He has feelings for me,” I burst out. “Romantic feelings.”
“Who?”
“Sean.”
“Oh.” She didn’t sound nearly as shocked as she should have.
“What do you mean, oh?” I imitated her tone.
“I mean, gee, the man who dropped his career and life to come watch over you and be with you while you mourn your dead husband has romantic feelings for you? I’m shocked.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me right now. I’m freaking out, Naomi.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’m just surprised that this never occurred to you before now.”
I scoffed. “Yes. I must have missed all the romantic gestures.”
“Romance rarely looks like the movies, and if he thought you didn’t reciprocate…” She trailed off.
“What?” I prompted after several moments of silence.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me if you reciprocate or not.”
My mind churned over that question. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I never have before. I never even thought…”
“Fair enough.”
I blew out a breath. “So what do I do?”
“About what?”
“About the man living next door who just told me he’s…he’s…”
“In love with you?”
“He didn’t say that.” That would have freaked me out even more.
“What did he say?”
“He said…adored,” I confessed, and the word fell over me like a warm sweater. “He said he’d…been holding back from kissing me for so long that…”
“Whoa,” she breathed. “Libby.”
“What do I do?” I begged her for answers.
“I don’t know. Be honest? I think that’s all you can do.”
“I love Jonas,” I said with conviction. “I miss my husband so much that—” I clamped my lips shut, unable to finish as I tried to keep the tears away.
“I know, sweetie.”
“What do I say to him?” I begged for an answer.
“The truth.”
“I don’t know what the truth is.”
“So give yourself time to figure that out. It’s not like he expects you to run back and insist on a quickie Vegas wedding. Give yourself the space to figure it out. I’m sure he’ll give you that.”
A ragged sigh escaped me. “We had just gotten to a good place, you know? We’d reached a state of normalcy. We were comfortable with each other.” I mourned the loss of the comfort.
“I know. And I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “So, now, tell me exactly how this conversation went down.”
I conceded and gave her the girl-gossip version, recounting every word and every look I could remember. We hung up only when I was nearly to my front lawn.
I opened the door with trepidation and anticipation and a sick feeling in my gut that may or may not have been pregnancy related.
It turned out my body had gotten worked up for nothing. Sean wasn’t at my house anymore. He must have gone home. I let myself breathe again, grateful he was giving me distance. The dinner he had made me was sitting on the stove, no longer on the burner but covered with a lid to keep it warm.