Tara and I run around the park path for the third time when she finally asks, “Why are you so quiet today?” We always talk just as much as we jog, but my morning threw me off.

“David told me he has a date tonight,” I tell her.

She turns her head to look at me. “Isn’t that a good thing? You want him to move on so things can go back to normal.”

“I know.”

“You’re jealous!” She shoves my shoulder, nearly pushing me into a walker on the edge of the path.

“Sorry,” I tell the woman before glaring at Tara. “Thanks a lot. I almost took out the speed walker because of you.”

“Eh, speed walking is stupid anyway. Either walk or jog. There shouldn’t be an in-between.”

I laugh, and we pick up the pace to get around a group of walkers.

“I stand by what I said. You’re totally jealous. Who is this woman, anyway?”

“Lonnie.”

“That gorgeous bartender at Last Call?” She sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. “Ouch. You’re doomed. She’s so hot I’d date her, and I’m not even gay.”

“Stop it.” I laugh, knowing she was aiming for that. But she’s right. Lonnie is much prettier than I am. She always draws the attention of every man at the bar. I can’t compete with her. Not when I’m pushing David away and avoiding him whenever possible.

“So why are you so upset, then? Are you ready to admit you still want to be with him?”

“If I thought I could be with him without hurting him, I’d do it in a second. You know that. But we both also know that he cares way too much about me to keep things casual.” I decide to fill her in on the column I still haven’t written.

“So he told that woman to talk to the guy, yet he never asked you why you won’t commit to him?” She jumps when a squirrel runs out onto the path right in front of her.

“My nut-loving friend obviously doesn’t think you should be making me have this conversation,” I say.

“You did not just say your ‘nut-loving friend.’ And FYI, you brought up the column.”

She’s right. I don’t know why I’m being sensitive about it. I need to talk to someone, and clearly, I can’t talk to David.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m avoiding my job because of him. Maybe I should find a new apartment.” I lower my head, keeping my gaze on the path in front of me.

“Why?” she asks. “If he’s dating Lonnie, I’m sure he’ll fall madly in love with her, and then he’ll be giving you the boot just like Sharonda did. By the way, have you spoken to her since you moved out?”

“No. She’s busy with wedding plans. It wasn’t like we were very close anyway. I was her younger sister’s friend, not hers.” Still, I would have thought she’d have checked in to see if I liked my new place.

“Maybe she turned into a bridezilla. You may have dodged a bullet there. Imagine if you were still living there while she was going crazy over centerpieces and dresses.”

No thank you. I don’t plan to get married. Ever. And I don’t really want to be in anyone’s wedding either. Maybe that’s why I can’t write this column. I can’t tell someone to pursue something I don’t believe in. Maybe it has nothing to do with David at all.

We run another two laps around the park while Tara fills me in on things at work. She’s teaching two more classes at the fitness center, which leaves less time to hang out with me, but she’s not complaining too much since the extra money is good. We jog back to our cars, and I open mine to retrieve my water bottle. I take a few healthy sips before doing some stretches to work out the kinks in my muscles.

“I think we were faster today,” Tara says.

“Nah. We just looked faster since there were so many speed walkers.” I smirk, knowing the comment will set her off.

“Don’t get me started on that again.” She finishes her water and tosses the bottle in the recycling bin in the parking lot. “What are you doing tonight? Are you seeing Sebastian?”

“No. He said he had plans already. I’m assuming he’s seeing that girl from the mini golf place.”

“Doesn’t it weird you out that you’re sleeping with a man who is probably sleeping with someone else at the same time?”

I look down at my sneakers. “I haven’t had sex with him. We’ve only kissed.”

“No wonder he’s not going out with you two nights in a row.”

“Very funny.” I roll my eyes, but in truth, she’s probably right. A man as gorgeous and recognizable as Sebastian must have women throwing themselves at him. He probably keeps me around because I’m the only challenge in his life. Maybe he’s trying to get me in bed and then plans to dump me after that. Challenge met.

“Hey, sorry if I offended you. I was only joking,” Tara says. She rubs my arm. “You look like you just saw a duck get run over by an SUV, and believe me, that’s not pretty. I’ve witnessed it.”

“Ew,” I say. “And speaking of ew, I’m sure we both stink. It’s hot as hell out today.”

“This is why I said we should run earlier in the day.”

“Call me later if you don’t wind up going out,” I tell her.

“As if I’d go out without you.” She shakes her head. “Go write that column. Don’t let your messed-up love life affect your job. You’ve got a good thing going with that paper.”

I do. I wave and get in the car. On the drive home, I come to a realization about the column. David and I are expected to disagree on the letters. If he told the woman to talk to her man, then I need to tell her the opposite. It doesn’t have to be what I really think she should do. It’s more about writing what will gain readers. I’m not supposed to be the voice of reason. That’s David’s role. So it’s time I embrace the shock value I know I can produce.

By the time I shower and get dressed, I’m ready to write and am feeling a lot better about everything. David is eating a late lunch on the couch when I join him in the living room.

“Hey, mind if I steal your laptop and write my half of that column?” I ask him.

“Go right ahead.” He motions to it on the coffee table. “How was your run with Tara?”

I sit down, pulling the laptop onto my lap. “Good, other than me almost colliding with a middle-aged power walker and Tara nearly trampling a squirrel.”

He laughs. “You two are dangerous together. Remind me never to go running with you.”

“Will do.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he says, and I know he’s referring to the line I fed him this morning about waking up feeling sick from the pizza grease Friday morning.

“Yeah, all good. I’m going to write this column and maybe go out tonight. Or maybe I’ll stay in and take a long bath since you’ll be on your date.” I didn’t have a bathtub in my last apartment, and the thought of relaxing in the hot water and reading a good book is very appealing.

“Go right ahead. I never use the tub, and someone should.”

“Where are you and Lonnie going?” I ask, clicking on the desktop file labeled Looking for a Commitment.

“Not sure yet. I’m going to call her in a little bit and see where she wants to go.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” I look up at him briefly.

“Sure.” His brow furrows, and I wonder if I’m pushing it by offering him advice for his date.

“Have a place in mind to suggest. You don’t want her to think you’re indecisive or worse, didn’t put any thought into the date.”

He nods. “I’ll do that. So, you hanging out with Sebastian this weekend?”

“I doubt it. We had lunch on Friday.” I realize my slipup too late.

David’s brow furrows. “Friday? Did he come here with soup or something?”

Crap. “Actually, I decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air. When I walked by the café on Main Street my stomach started rumbling. I figured I should eat, and Sebastian and I ran into each other there.”

David nods. “I saw the to-go container in the fridge. I figured you must have felt better.”

“You know me. I don’t cook,” I say with a forced laugh.

“I just thought you would have ordered in, but the fresh air probably did you good.”

“Yeah, that and the vitamin D.” I’m rambling now, completely uncomfortable.

David stands up, taking his empty lunch plate with him. “Well, I should let you write. I’m going to take a shower and figure out where to take Lonnie on our date.”

“Enjoy,” I say, directing my attention to the file on the screen. I wait until I hear the bathroom door close before I exhale long and hard. Then I pour my thoughts into the column.

Dear Looking for a Commitment,

Nothing kills a relationship faster than one person asking the other to commit. You can’t force these things. Feelings should develop naturally. If you go asking this guy to make a commitment, he’s going to feel pressured into it, which is going to result in one of two things. He’ll either run away screaming and you’ll never see him again. Or he’ll suck it up, commit to you, and then resent you for it, which will only make both of you miserable in the long run. Stop putting pressure on the relationship, and let it run its own course.

Emily

Satisfied that I’ve fulfilled my position as yin to David’s yang, I save the file and put the laptop back on the coffee table. I spend the next few hours cleaning the apartment, determined to uphold my end of the roommate relationship. David winds up cooking for me or paying for takeout most nights, so I have no problem cleaning. I find it therapeutic in a way. I put my earbuds in, click on my playlist, and start vacuuming the apartment. Before long, I’m singing along and dancing as I vacuum. The chorus comes on, and I close my eyes as I belt out the lyrics. I fumble in front of me, pushing open David’s door, which is ajar. Except I collide with David instead, running over his bare toes with the vacuum.

“Ow!” he yells, stumbling backward and grabbing his foot.

I quickly shut off the vacuum and yank the earbuds out. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were in here.”

“It’s fine.” He sits down on the edge of his bed. “You really don’t have to vacuum in here, though. I told you I’d take care of my own room.”

“I know, but you’re always cooking for me or paying for takeout. I figured vacuuming your room was the least I could do.” I sit next to him on the bed. “How bad is it?”

He removes his hand, and I see his big toe is bloody, the nail split down the center.

“Oh, God!” I jump up and rush out of the room. I grab some paper towels from the kitchen and run them under cold water before hurrying back to David. “Here,” I say, bending down in front of him. “I can’t believe I did this.” After wrapping the wet towels around his toe, I raise my gaze to see his hand covered in blood. “Stay here. I’ll get more so you can clean your hand.”

I rush from the room again, but this time when I return, David is gone. “David?”

“In the bathroom,” he calls.

I walk in to find him with his foot in the tub. “I figured I should wash it out and put some antibiotic ointment on it.”

I nod and hand him the wet towels to clean his hand. Then I turn on the faucet so he can rinse his toe. Once the blood stops running down the drain, I grab a hand towel and hold it out. “Give me your foot.”

“I can do it myself, you know,” he says.

“I know, but I feel terrible. Please let me help.”

He places his foot on the towel I’m holding. I gently dab the foot dry.

“Sit down on the edge of the tub, and I’ll get the antibacterial ointment.” I open the medicine cabinet, but I can’t find any.

“Check the cabinet under the sink,” he says.

I bend down and open the cabinet. There’s a basket filled with bandages of all sorts, alcohol wipes, and the ointment I’m looking for. I grab it and a Q-tip before turning back to him. After uncapping the ointment, I squeeze a pea-sized amount onto the Q-tip. “Hold still,” I say, the Q-tip poised over his foot. I gently dab the ointment onto the cracked toenail. Then I turn around and grab a Band-Aid from the cabinet.

“Good thing I’m not a flip-flops or sandals kind of guy,” he jokes as I wrap the bandage around his toe.

“If you were, I’d draw a smiley face on it so you could use it as a conversation piece on your date.” I toss the garbage in the trash can and stand up. “I think that should do.”

“Thanks.”

“For helping with the injury I inflicted on you?” I scoff.

“It was an accident.” He stands up, and we’re unusually close to each other. I can smell his body wash.

I step back, hoping he didn’t notice I was breathing in his scent. “Anyway, I should finish vacuuming, and you have a date to get ready for.”

“Right. Do you want me to clean the tub? I doubt you want to take a bath in it without making sure all traces of my blood are gone first.”

“The bathroom is already on my list of things to clean, so don’t worry about it.” I walk out, but I notice him grabbing the bleach from the closet. “If you get bleach on your dress shirt, you’ll only have yourself to blame,” I say, walking back to his room to retrieve the vacuum.

It doesn’t take me too long to finish the vacuuming. I don’t see David during that time, and when I walk into the bathroom I quickly discover why. The place is immaculate.

“I cleaned everything, bleached the tub, and drew you a bubble bath.” He motions to the bathtub behind him. “I hope you like lavender-scented candles. Monica left them behind when she moved out. It’s all I have.”

He drew me a bath? “David, you didn’t have to do this.” I hurt him, and he not only cleans the bathroom for me, he draws me a bubble bath. If he wasn’t about to go out on a date with another woman, I’d be worried he was trying to get back together with me.

“I know, but you’re looking forward to reading tonight. I didn’t want my bloody toe to stop you or cause you any more cleaning.” I start to protest, but he holds his finger to my mouth to stop me. “Despite what you say, it was an accident.” He lowers his finger, and my gaze follows it. “All right. I’m going now. Enjoy your night.” He gives me a smile before walking out of the bathroom.

Once he’s gone, I undress and slip into the warm water. It’s pure heaven. I realize I forgot my book in my room, but I’m too comfortable to get out of the tub to get it. Instead, I lean my head back on the tub pillow and sigh. My mind races with images of David and Lonnie. He deserves a woman who will commit to him and him alone. I hope she is that woman for him. Even if it makes me insanely jealous to think of his hands on her body. Of him touching her the way he used to touch me. David would be the perfect guy if he didn’t believe in marriage. If he could be happy being with me without any promise of what was to come. If he cared just a little less. But I guess he wouldn’t be David then. I refuse to be the woman who changes him.

I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep with thoughts of David on my mind.