“Do you need a hug? You look like you need a hug.” Bram steps up next to me in my kitchen with his arms spread.
I’m not in the mood for his theatrics, but goddamn, I could use a hug. I step into his embrace and he quickly holds me tight.
“That’s it, big guy, take all the good loving. Take. It. All.”
Okay, it just got weird. I push him away, grab my opened beer from the counter, and walk over to the living room with a bowl of Doritos. Bram follows me and we both take a seat on my stiff couch—it still hasn’t been broken in despite the amount of times Charlee and I have fucked on it.
“So, you guys broke up, called the wedding off?” Bram asks, popping a chip in his mouth.
“I don’t really know.” I drag my hand over my face and slouch in my seat. “Fuck, man, I really have no clue what’s going on. She wants more from me, but it’s hard. After giving everything to Vanessa, only for her to up and leave, I can’t go through that again. And I know I worked a lot with Vanessa, that I pushed her to the side, but I also was going through a really rough time with the company. I needed a goddamn moment and I couldn’t spend every waking hour making her happy—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Bram says, holding up his beer. “Did you hear what you just said? You weren’t going to spend every waking hour making her happy.”
“Yeah, so?”
“With Julia? I’d go sleepless if it meant I could spend a few more hours in the day, making sure I see Julia’s smile, know she’s content, satisfied, full of joy. I want nothing more in life than for my girl to be happy, and I would go to any extent to make that happen.”
“Are you saying I’m a shitty boyfriend?” I ask, feeling even worse now.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. What I’m trying to point out is that even though you thought you loved Vanessa, she wasn’t your soul mate. If she was, you would have made the time, you wouldn’t have pushed her away. You might have loved her, man, but you weren’t in love with her. There’s a difference.”
I pause, my beer halfway to my mouth and then exhale. “Shit, I never thought about it that way.” It’s as if a lightbulb turns on in my head and everything starts to make sense. I did love her. I loved her a lot. She was my friend, my lover, my confidante, but was I in love with her? According to what Bram says, I wasn’t. She was the first person I allowed to see my heart, but I didn’t protect hers like I should have if I was in love. I wasn’t bending over backwards to fulfill her needs, and even though we were together for two years, she never lived with me. She stayed at my place on occasion, but I never asked her to move in. And yet . . . apart from the initial sexual tension, having Charlee live in my apartment is incredible. Welcome. Easy. The idea of her gone . . . never coming back . . . Fuck.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?”
I sip my beer and say, “Maybe, yeah.”
“She wasn’t the girl for you, man. If she was—”
“I never would have let her walk away.”
“Exactly.” He smiles and bites the very tip of a chip like an asshat. “Look at us having a therapy session. We should have done this a while ago. Maybe then you would be more receptive to the girl you actually care about.”
“What do you mean?”
Growing serious, Bram says, “Come on, man. We both know what’s going on with Charlee is way more than just this idea to make her grandma’s wish come true. I see the way you look at her, the way she makes you smile. I’m not dumb, it’s the same way I look at Julia whenever she walks into the room and it’s the reason why you’re sulking right now. You like her.”
“Of course, I like her. I never would have suggested to marry her if I didn’t like her.”
“No man, you like her, like her. You want to have babies with her like her.”
“Getting ahead of yourself,” I say. But I’ve thought about it. Ever since our Grandma’s counseling evening, when the idea was first floated, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I want that. I want that future with Charlee.
“Seriously though, tell me right now that you don’t—”
Knock. Knock.
We both turn our heads toward the door and then back at each other.
“Did you order anything?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah, Julia made salmon for dinner.”
Confused, I stand from the couch and walk to the entryway. When I open the door, Charlee’s standing on the other side with a bag in her hand. Immediately my stomach does an excited and nervous somersault as I take her in.
Leggings, long sweater, her slipper boots on her feet, and her hair weaved into braids, without an ounce of makeup on her face.
She’s unthinkably perfect.
“Oh hey, Charlee,” Bram calls out as he walks up behind me. “I was just leaving.” He pats me on the shoulder and gives me the look. You know, the look from a best friend that says, remember what we talked about. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He turns to Charlee and says, “Be easy on the big guy. I promise, there’s a heart in there.” And then he takes off, leaving me alone with Charlee.
Feeling awkward, I stick my hands in my pockets and say, “Want to come in?”
She nods, and I move aside so she can walk into my apartment. Instead of setting her bag down in the entryway, she takes it straight to the bedroom and then stays there.
Unsure of what’s going on, I shut my door, lock it, and then head to the bedroom where Charlee is curled up in my bed.
Does she want me to join her? I sure as hell want to.
But I don’t make a move, because all I can do is stare at her. I stare at her so long that she finally breaks the silence. “Don’t leave me in here alone, Rath.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Keeping my clothes on, I slip into bed but keep my distance, which only seems to upset her more. Before I know what’s happening, she’s crying into her pillow.
Shit.
Quickly, I fall in behind her and spoon her back, holding on to her tightly.
“What’s going on?” I ask, all the anger and tension from earlier today gone.
“I don’t want us fighting.”
“I don’t want us to fight either,” I say, keeping a firm grasp around her stomach. “Today was fucking miserable. My stomach was in knots the whole time.” And that’s the truth, because even though I gave her the option to walk away, I really didn’t want her to. I want to keep her close to me, to make it impossible for her to even consider walking away. I swallow hard and say, “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you being here, in my bed, does that mean you’re wearing the ring again?”
She takes my hand and brushes it over her left hand, letting me feel the raised diamond. I exhale and squeeze her in tighter.
“I’m sorry for taking it off,” she says quietly. “I was upset and didn’t react properly. I want to say I don’t know what’s happening to me, that I’m unsure why I care so much about you, about us, but I would be lying to myself. I care, Rath. I care about you, who you are, and who you want to be. I care about what you think about me, what you think about our relationship and if it means something to you too. I care if this is just an agreement to you or if you actually meant it when you said we’re dating. But I’m unsure, and that’s what’s making me do crazy and stupid shit . . . because I’m protecting my heart. It was broken before, but I’m pretty sure if I gave you the chance, you could annihilate it. And that’s more terrifying than anything.”