Chapter Twenty-Nine
Luke
“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” Mom says when I open the door back at the apartment. Floyd is sleeping on my bed, and since I’ve been keeping an eye on him—as in, not leaving my room where he’s sleeping—I’m pretty exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night, the feel of Lila on my arm stirring all kinds of thoughts, good and bad.
“Thanks, Mom. Sorry I didn’t get to stay,” I say.
“How’s Floyd?” she asks as she scurries inside my apartment, a stack of gifts in her arms.
“Better.”
“Thanks to Lila, of course,” she says, winking.
“Where’s Charley?”
“Last minute gig at the hospital. The Santa Claus working pediatrics apparently got a cold and couldn’t go, so Charley’s filling in.”
“That’s nice,” I say, leading Mom to our sad excuse for a kitchen, hurrying to make coffee.
“Sit, I’ll get it,” Mom says, and I oblige, feeling like hell. As she starts the coffeepot, she turns to me and asks, “How did it go? With Lila?”
I lean my head into my hands. “Good. Confusing. A mess.”
Mom sighs. “I don’t know why you two insist on playing this game. You know you’re both not over each other. Why not tell her how you feel? It’s childish, you know. Just man up.”
“Because nothing’s changed,” I say. “We’re still us.”
“Exactly. You’re still you. You’re still the Luke and Lila who radiate sickening happiness around each other. You’re the Luke who makes the rational Lila a little bit wilder and a little bit more fun. She’s the Lila who saved your cat twice now, who makes you settle a bit, who makes you plan for the future. You balance each other. You’re amazing together. And sure, you didn’t have it all figured out. But that doesn’t mean you still can’t.”
“You know why things fell apart.”
“Because you were being a wimp when it came to commitment. So what?”
“You know what she heard last Christmas. I can’t take that back.”
“But you can make it better. Stop making excuses, Luke. Take ownership of your life or someone else will.”
“She’s with someone.”
“He’s not you.”
I groan. “Can we just open some Christmas gifts now?” I ask as she hands me a cup of coffee.
“You can change the subject all you want, but you know your mom’s never wrong.”
“Never? Like when you thought the waiter at Chili’s was the love of your life and he turned out to be gay? Or the time you swore the engine light always came on in your old Camaro and it was no big deal on the way to Ohio? Or—”
“Okay,” Mom says, putting up a hand. “I get it. But I’m not wrong about this. Now, come on. Give your mom the amazing presents you got her and then get your ass together. Aren’t you going on tour soon?”
“It’s not a tour, Mom. It’s a few gigs.”
“Well, it’s going to be a tour soon enough, so you better get things figured out here.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you,” I say, leaning in to hug her before heading to my room to get her gifts.
“Love you, too, foolish son of mine.”
Later, when the gifts have been opened and our farewells said, I cuddle in beside Floyd, who is still doing well.
I think about where it all went wrong. I think about those words I can’t take back. I think about how tonight just solidified for me what I already know: I’m still madly in love with a woman I can’t have.
And it’s all my damn fault.
***
“Congratulations, man. What awesome news,” I said again as Will and I stood in the corner of the Morrow living room. Grandma Claire giggled wildly at the gift she’d just handed to Lila’s mom—I averted my eyes because knowing Grandma as I did, I was sure it was something terrifying, something I wouldn’t want to associate with her later.
“Thanks,” Will said, taking another swig of his beer. “I’m excited to be part of the family.”
Maren and Will had just announced their engagement at the Morrow family Christmas celebration. It wasn’t a shock. We’d all seen it coming, the way those two couldn’t get enough of each other, the hints about weddings and forevers.
“When is it your turn? You and Lila have been together as long as us. When are you going to pop the question?” Will asked. I knew he meant no harm. It was a logical question and a logical observation.
Marriage was the logical next step.
But not for us. Not for me. Not after my past.
“Oh, no. Lila and I aren’t that kind of couple,” I said, smirking, trying to play it off.
“So no wedding plans?” Will asked for clarity.
“None. Ever. Not in this lifetime.”
I took a swig from my beer, ignoring Will’s questioning face. I turned the conversation, wanting to get out of this already uncomfortable circle of words.
I knew Maren’s ring would stir questions, would stir new conversations with Lila. I knew she said she was okay with where we stood, where I stood, with marriage.
I just didn’t expect how uncomfortable it would be. I didn’t realize how Maren and Will’s relationship was a tracking mechanism for our own and that this could change everything.
A few minutes later, Lila came strolling down the hall, the Christmas spirit gone.
“Hey, baby,” I said, wondering what had shifted in her.
“Hey,” she said, lackluster, no emotion. The typical Lila smile was gone.
There was a palpable coldness the rest of the evening. She smiled through, laughing at Grandma Claire’s wild comments and fighting with her mom. To everyone else, everything with Lila was fine.
I could see the truth. I could see that the smile she wore was her fake smile and that something was off.
It was only later on that night that I found out why.
It was later, when I found out she’d heard every damning word I’d said, that I realized we were coming undone, like it or not. And I was too cowardly to stop it, despite how much I loved that woman.
***
That night was the beginning of the end. I doubt Maren and Will realized that with their yes to forever, the no to mine and Lila’s was sealed.
We’d fought that night, hard. There were tears and frustrations. There were fears that we couldn’t get past this, and me reassuring her we could. There were questions of intentions and questions of why.
Most of all, there was the realization we hadn’t yet faced, even though we probably should have: we wanted different things in life.
And maybe, just maybe, our love wouldn’t be enough to bridge that gap.
Now, lying in bed, alone on Christmas other than Floyd, I think about last year. More than that, though, I think about today, and the regrets weighing heavily on me.
Why do I always back down when I want to step up? Why can I never man up, tell Lila what I need to tell her? Why do I always let her slip away when I want to grab on with everything I am?
Why don’t I let myself hold on to happiness?
This morning, when Lila jumped up, I wanted to reach for her. I wanted to shove away the thoughts of her new boyfriend, of our goodbye, of all the things keeping us apart. I wanted to wrap her in my arms like I had done so many times and kiss away all the tension between us. I wanted to tell her I loved her, that I always had. I needed to confess to her I don’t like who I am without her.
I was dying to tell her I’m still broken, still not worthy of her… but I’m selfish enough to want her back. I wanted to ask her to be patient with me, to help me get over my fears, and to help me be the brave man who deserves her.
But I didn’t. Old habits truly do die hard.
Instead, I’d walked away from the only woman who ever understood me, who made me want to be better. I walked away from the only woman who devastated me when we broke up. I walked away from my past but also my future—if I was just brave enough to grab it.
So now, here I am, alone, Lila off with someone else instead of me.
Maybe I deserve misery after all.