“Can I use your restroom to wash up?”
“You were just inside me in that restroom hours ago, what’s with the formalities?”
He half shrugs. “Just trying to be polite.”
“By all means, Mr. Courteous.”
He shuts the door, and I hear the water run. Dragging myself from my bed, I wince at the soreness between my legs as I pull on my sweater. He’s leaving. On Christmas Day? Not just leaving, he’s bailing. Why? He’s been in a somber mood since he saw me dance and I can’t understand it. Putting a K-cup in my Keurig, I feel my heart start to race as dread fills me.
I walk over to the bathroom and knock on the door.
“So, where exactly in the city was your fight?”
Silence.
“Was it around here? I sure wish you would have given me the heads-up. I would have loved to have seen it.”
“Sorry, next time.”
Tears surface as I fully rouse and realize what’s happening. “I think we both know there won’t be a next time.”
The water shuts off, and he opens the door wiping his hands on the towel hanging on the back of it. “Probably right.”
“Yeah, because this was, what? ‘I’m in town and let me see if I can turn Harper’s world upside down?’…to get back at me?”
“You know that’s not it.”
“Your dad doesn’t need you home. Not today. You asked me to spend Christmas with you, and you’re going to up and leave a day early? Why?”
He avoids my stare, pulling his wallet from the top of my dresser and tucks it in his jeans. “I just need to get back.”
“Bullshit.”
“I have a fight coming up.”
“I understand, but it’s not today.”
“I need to focus.”
“Lance, what did I do?”
“Nothing,” he says, searching the room for his boots.
“You show up after two years, sleep with me, and now you want to leave without so much as a discussion about it?”
“I have to go home and train. You have a show. What’s there to discuss?”
“How about the fact that your last fight was in Lubbock, not New York.”
He still won’t look at me. “I wanted to see you, Harper, is that such a crime?”
“You’re hiding. You refuse to talk about home. There’s more to it than that. And these two days have meant something. What we have—”
His head snaps up, and his eyes pin me. “If you wanted to make me a priority, you had the chance two years ago.”
I swallow. “That was different.”
“How?”
“It was…hard back then. Different circumstances.”
He squares off. “And it’s easy now?”
I give him the truth. “No, it’s not.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons, the first being I can’t just leave. I’m in a show.”
“Exactly,” he shakes his head. “So, there’s no point in getting upset about it. I’m not.”
“Well, that’s apparent. So that’s it? Was last night a goodbye fuck?”
“It was a great couple of days,” he says as if we’re talking about his favorite brand of cereal. “Thank you.”
“Are you really saying this—”
“I can’t swing if I’ve got nothing to swing for.” His voice is arctic. “Stupidly, I always hoped our break up was temporary.”
“I felt the same way, I still love you. Lance, please understand I can’t drop everything and go ringside right now. I just…I’ve been working for this my whole life.”
“I’m aware. I’m not arguing with you.”
“So that’s it? Did you get what you want?”
“Far from it. But you don’t want me to ask for what I want. And you can’t give it to me. So why are you acting jaded?” He laces up his boots. “I need to be able to see you, touch you.” He looks up to me from where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I need a commitment. You refused to commit to me then, you had your reasons, I guess. So, commit to me now, right now.”
Awareness pricks up my spine.
He shakes his head ironically at my silence. “You preach a hell of a lot about faith but seem to have none in us, in me.”
“That’s not true. And that sounded a hell of a lot like an ultimatum, not a question.”
“It is an ultimatum. And you’ve made it true. You told me dancing will always come first, and I didn’t listen. But after last night, I can’t be mad at you for it. I can’t.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll take your silence as another no.”
“Damnit, Lance, it’s not that simple—”
His silvery gaze cuts me off mid-sentence. “Just fucking once, I would love to hear you say it was a mistake to leave, to leave me.” The guttural edge to his voice has my heart bottoming out.
“Look how far we’ve both come.”
He closes his eyes, and I know I’ve sealed my fate. His voice gets so low, I barely recognize it. “When I’m on that plane on the way home, and I admit to myself I do know why you won’t commit to me, I think it might just rip the rest of me apart.”
“That’s not it. Not at all. Lance, you’re enough, you’re more than enough, don’t go,” I reach for his face, and he grips my hands between his. “Just one more day. We’ve still got time. If you could just stay one more day!” I’m hysterical and humiliating myself. “Stay. Please stay.”
He cups my neck before his full lips cover me in his kiss. It’s far too brief before he pulls away. I feel it then, the distance he’s creating. Eyes intent on mine, he’s still cradling my head when he speaks. “I think what mattered to me most about coming here is that I never got a chance to say I love you. And I do, I love you, Harper.”
His words strike deep, lifting my heart to an immeasurable height before it plummets to the concrete.
“Please don’t go,” I grip his forearms as he releases me.
I hate my stupidity, my cowardice the most. I shouldn’t have to squeeze the life I’ve made to fit inside his. It’s unfair to me. But that’s not what he’s asking. And it’s not the reason for my hesitation. It’s never been the reason. Dancing was just the best excuse to leave him, to leave Grand.
SPEAK UP.
SPEAK UP.
Fear cripples me as I watch him make his way to the door.
“Lance,” I croak my hopes crashing with his every step, “I swear to God, I love you.”
He looks back at me with resignation in his eyes. “I know,” he says softly. “You were good at it.”
And with that, he closes the door.
The rest of his life starts now, and my silence just bought my front row seat.
Harper
Six weeks later…
Racing through the airport to my gate with my passport in hand, I stop short when I see my flight’s delayed. We have our last show in Canada, and from there, I’m stuck auditioning again. Forever searching for the next gig. It’s terrifying when your career jumps from a small place of certainty to the unknown. Shouldering my bag, I make my way toward the bar. I’m in a martini kind of mood and have been for the last six weeks. I can’t, for the life of me, continue my life as if those days at Christmas didn’t happen. Winter got colder, more dismal, more miserable, more colorless when Lance left my apartment. I’m done denying that I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life letting him walk out of it, losing him a second time. If it was for the best, then I could let go, but I can’t hold a candle of an excuse, save one.