Now that Oliver is sound asleep in the car next to us and no longer in my arms, I pull Fallon to me. I wrap my arms around her desperately, needing to feel her against me. I close my eyes and try to think of words that will fix this, but the only words that come are all the things I shouldn’t say. “How did we let this happen?”
I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’m being unfair to Jordyn. But Jordyn is also being unfair to me, because she’ll never love me like she loved Kyle. And she has to know that I’ll never feel about her the way I feel for Fallon.
Fallon tries to pull away, but I hold her tight. “Wait. Please just answer one question.”
She relents and stays wrapped in my arms.
“Did you move back to L.A. for me? For us?”
As soon as I ask the question, I can feel her deflate. I can feel my heart tumbling down the walls of my chest. Her lack of denial forces me to squeeze her tighter. “Fallon,” I whisper. “God, Fallon.” I lift her chin and force her to look up at me. “Do you love me?”
Her eyes grow wide with fear, as if she has no clue what the answer to that question is. Or maybe the question scares her because she knows exactly how she feels about me, but she wishes she didn’t feel that way. I ask her again. I plead with her this time. “Please. I can’t make this decision until I know that I’m not alone in how I feel about you.”
She looks me pointedly in the eyes with an adamant shake of her head. “I’m not about to compete with a woman who is raising a child on her own, Ben. I won’t be the one who took you from her when she’s already been through too much. So don’t worry, you don’t have to make any decisions. I just made it for you.”
She tries to push past me, but I grab her face and try to plead with her. I can see the resolve in her eyes before I even speak. “Please,” I whisper. “Not again. We can’t make it through this if you walk away again.”
She looks up at me, vexed. “You didn’t give me a choice this time, Ben. You showed up in love with someone else. You share another woman’s bed. Your hands touch someone who isn’t me. Your lips make promises against skin that isn’t mine. And no matter who is at fault for that, whether it’s mine for walking away last year or yours for not knowing I did it for your own good, none of it changes things. It is what it is.” She slips from my grasp and opens her car door, looking up at me through damp lashes. “They’re lucky to have you. You’re a really great father to him, Ben.” She gets in her car, completely unaware that she’s about to pull away with my heart. I stand here, frozen, unable to stop her. Unable to speak. Unable to plead. Because I know there’s nothing I could say that would change things. Not today, anyway. Not until I make things right in all the other areas of my life.
She rolls down her window, wiping another tear from her cheek. “I won’t be back next year. I’m sorry if this ruined your book, that’s the last thing I wanted. But I just can’t do this anymore.”
She can’t give up for good. I grip the door of her car and lean in to the open window. “Fuck the book, Fallon. It was never about the book. It was about you, it always was.”
She stares at me, silent. And then she rolls up her window and pulls away, never once slowing down as I pound on the back of her car, chasing her until I can’t anymore.
“Shit!” I yell, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. I kick it again, stirring up dust. “Goddammit!”
How am I supposed to go back to Jordyn now when I no longer have a heart to give her?
Fifth November
9th
My flaws are draped in her mercy
Revered by her false perception
And with her lips upon my skin
She will undress my deception.
—BENTON JAMES KESSLER
Fallon
Previously, when I would think about events in my life, I would organize those events chronologically in my mind as before the fire and after the fire.
I don’t do that anymore. Not because I’ve grown as a person. Quite the opposite, actually, because now I think about my life in terms of before Benton James Kessler and after Benton James Kessler.
Pathetic, I know. And even more so because it’s been exactly a year since we went our separate ways and I still think about him just as much as I did before after Benton James Kessler. But it’s not so easy to rid my thoughts of someone who had such an impact on my life.
I don’t wish ill on him. I never have. Especially after seeing how torn he was with his decision when we parted ways last year. I’m sure if I cried and begged him to choose me, he would have. But I would never want to be with anyone because I had to beg. I don’t even want to be with anyone if there’s even a remote possibility that there’s a third party at play. Love should be between two people, and if it isn’t, I’d rather bow out than take part in the race.
I’m not one to believe things happen for a reason, so I refuse to believe it was our fate not to end up together. If I believed that, then I’d have to believe it was fate for Kyle to die at such a young age. I’d much rather believe shit just happens.
Injured in a fire? Shit happens.
Lost your career? Shit happens.
Lost the love of your life to a widow with an infant? Shit happens.
The last thing I want to believe is that my fate has already been mapped out for me and I get no say in where or who I end up with. But if that’s the case and my life will turn out the same in the end¸ no matter what choices I make, then why does it matter if I leave my apartment tonight?
It doesn’t. But Amber seems to think it’s a big deal.
“You can’t stay here and mope,” she says, plopping down on the couch next to me.
“I’m not moping.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not.”
“Then why won’t you come out with us?”
“I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
“Then call Teddy.”
“Theodore,” I correct.
“You know I can’t call him Theodore with a straight face. That name should be reserved for members of the royal family.”
I wish she would get past his name. I’ve been out with him several times now and she still brings it up every time. She can see the irritation on my face, so she continues to defend herself.
“He wears pants with tiny, embroidered whales on them, Fallon. And the two times I’ve gone out with you guys, all he does is tell stories about being raised in Nantucket. But no one in Nantucket talks like a surfer, I can promise you that.”
She’s right. He talks about Nantucket like everyone should be jealous he’s from there. But besides that small quirk and his pretentious choice in pants, he’s one of the only guys I’ve been around that can take my mind off Ben for more than an hour.
“If you hate him as much as you seem to, why are you insisting I invite him out with us tonight?”
“I don’t hate him,” Amber says. “I just don’t like him. And I’d rather you come tonight with him than sit here and mope about how it’s November 9th and you aren’t spending it with Ben.”
“That’s not why I’m moping,” I lie.