The ride to Oliver’s apartment is filled with nothing but silence between us. Oliver sits on his side of the car, staring out the window, and I sit on mine. I can’t remember Oliver ever being this quiet about anything, and that pretty much makes me desperate to know what’s going on inside his head. I want him to open up about what he’s thinking, so I can get to work on squashing the fears and objections that I know are making a mess of his head.

We make it to his building, the doorman and concierge both greeting us like normal, as if Oliver doesn’t look like he’s gone a round in a boxing ring.

Once we’re in his apartment, I guide Oliver into one of the barstools set up at his kitchen island, and make my way into his bathroom to get the first aid kit I’ve seen under his sink. I return with that and set it on the counter, then wet an old washcloth with warm water. I move slowly and purposefully, giving myself time to calm my nerves and come up with something to say that won’t make this whole thing even worse than it already is.

When I can’t delay it any longer, I walk over to where Oliver’s sitting and open the first aid kit.

“Are you just not gonna talk to me anymore?” I say in the lightest voice I can possibly manage. I wish it sounded less shaky than it did.

It takes Oliver a few seconds to reply. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” I say, dabbing some of the blood off of Oliver’s lip with the washcloth. “You can start with Ben telling you to stay away from me. When did that happen? Why did that happen, and why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”

Those gorgeous blue eyes search mine. “A couple of reasons, I guess. I think a part of me was afraid that Ben not wanting us together would make you rethink things with me.”

I give him a withering look, and he holds his hands up defensively. “I know, I know. But you wanted me to be honest.”

I bite my tongue and nod. I value Ben’s opinion about pretty much everything, but would never stand for him trying to dictate who I should or shouldn’t spend my time with. It’s kind of difficult for me to believe that Oliver would let someone else’s opinion on something stop him from having something he truly wanted.

“So…when did he say this? When we were on Shelter Island?” Did Ben see something between us then?

Oliver shakes his head. “No. It was during our trip to Thailand.”

I drop the washcloth out of pure shock, and it lands on Oliver’s thigh.

“That long ago?” I say, more to myself than to Oliver. I run back all the things that Ben has said to me about Oliver, Oliver’s history in relationships, and how Oliver thinks of me in particular, reinforcing my belief that he’d always seen me as a sister. That Ben had inserted himself into the situation and managed to keep us away from each other all these years, depriving us both of all the happiness we’d found over the past few weeks, makes me want to spit actual fire at my brother. What a meddling asshat.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

“He didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t commit, and didn’t see me as the kind of guy he wanted his sister dating. And honestly, I don’t blame him.”

“Did he really hit you that hard?” I ask, positive that something must be malfunctioning in that brain of his. “You two don’t get to decide what kind of guy I should be dating. I get to decide that, and…you’re kind, you’re generous, you treat me well. Oliver, you’re exactly the kind of man I should be sharing my life with.”

How he doesn’t see that about himself, I’ll never understand.

“I can be selfish and stubborn and…to be honest, I don’t know how to be in relationships. I’ve never been in one that’s been worth a damn, and I’m never able to make them last very long. It was probably only a matter of time before I messed this up, too.”

“You’re doing fine,” I say softly, carefully caressing his cheek. He doesn’t flinch away this time, and that’s something.

“It’s only been a few weeks,” he argues.

“That’s generally how things start, Oliver. They go well for a few weeks, then they go well for a few months, a few years, and before you know it we spend a whole lifetime together.”

Oliver, who is very intently staring at his hands, slowly drags his eyes up to meet mine, and I hate what I see in them with every fiber of my being. It’s defeat, and some kind of self-loathing that I just don’t get at all. It’s a look that makes a painful lump lodge in my throat.

“Don’t do what you’re going to do,” I say, barely managing to keep myself from crying.

“It’s probably for the best.”

“The best for who? You said you were in love with me, unless you were lying about—”

“I would never lie about that,” he replies tightly, his eyes full of fire.

“Then is it best for me? Because I’m in love with you too, and you make me happy, Oliver. I don’t understand where this is coming from. We were perfectly fine before Ben came busting into my office earlier. He’s wrong, and he’s a hypocrite given his own history. We were happy…why does this change anything?”

Oliver’s back to looking at his hands again, and it is infuriating. “I just think it’s better if we don’t. I got wrapped up in the moment in Portland, and I wasn’t thinking straight, I wasn’t thinking long-term, I think—”

“Don’t you dare say we made a mistake.”

When Oliver looks up at me, it’s like a flip is switched. He’s not the warm, caring man I’ve been in love with for years. He’s morphed into the successful businessman with billion-dollar deals under his belt, cold and emotionless with only an end strategy in mind.

“I think we made a mistake.”

I do my best to swallow them down, but the tears come quickly anyway. There’s no holding them back.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Knowing me, I probably would’ve done it at some point anyway.”

No, he wouldn’t have. I refuse to believe it. “Fucking liar.”

He tries to hide it, but I see him flinch. If he doesn’t want to be honest with me about what he’s really scared of, then I guess maybe this is for the best. The anger and hurt coursing through me makes me rush into Oliver’s bedroom. I empty out the drawer he gave me, shoving my clothes into a giant tote I’d stashed in his closet. Next, I dump in the lotions and soaps I’d brought over, and toss my toothbrush into the trash. On my way out I spot a pair of my favorite heels in his closet, and make sure to get those too. The bag is overflowing and probably a little too heavy for me to carry easily, but I don’t care.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asks, still rooted to the spot where I’d left him.

“Erasing all remnants of this mistake you’ve made from your life. Isn’t that what you want? Well, you got it.”

I storm out into the hallway and down to the street where the doorman hails me a cab.

Oliver doesn’t come after me.

Caught up in a wave of hurt and anger, I wind up at Ben and Marisa’s apartment. I just want to get this confrontation over with, because I want to give my brother a piece of my mind and then not have to see him for…well, a very long time.

Marisa answers the door with a soft, sympathetic look on her face. “Hey,” she says softly, stepping back so I can walk inside. “Are you okay?”

That lump in my throat makes itself known again, and I start tearing up. My eyes are already throbbing and hot from all the crying I’ve done on the way over here.

“No, not really.”

Marisa shuts the door and gives me a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry,” she says when she pulls away. “I feel like it’s my fault for sending Ben over there.”

I shake my head, not wanting her to linger on that kind of guilt. “No, this has been coming for a while. Ben would’ve acted this way no matter when we’d told him. I thought maybe we should do it at dinner tomorrow night—which I will not be attending, by the way—but Oliver was reluctant, which I completely understand now. And makes sense considering Ben told him however many years ago to stay away from me, the nosy asshole.”

“Wait, he did what?” Marisa asks, confused.

“Ben told Oliver to stay away from me,” I repeat.

Her eyebrows scrunch together like she’s trying to figure something out, but that look disappears a few seconds later. “Is everything okay between you and Oliver?”

I’m sad that I didn’t get to tell her about the two of us myself, that she found out from my brother coming home pissed off with a busted-up face. Marisa’s as much Oliver’s friend as she is mine, and I know she’ll find out about what happened sooner rather than later. Might as well hear it from me first.

“No. I think it’s over.” My voice trembles, and another tear falls down my cheek. “He says he thinks it was a mistake.”

Her face falls. “Oh, Oliver,” she whispers, then hugs me again. “I’ve wanted you guys to get together for so long,” she says, her voice full of regret. “He’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known him.”

Well, that just makes me cry harder. “Not enough, I guess.”

“Felicity, that’s not—”

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” I plead.

“Yeah, sure.” She rubs my back comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Is Ben here?”

She nods to her left. “He’s in his office.”

“Are you going to tell me to take it easy on him?”

“Nah,” she says, shaking her head. “He deserves it.”

I give her the best smile I can manage before I go off to give my brother a piece of my mind.

I find him at his desk, reclined in his chair with his hands clasped across his stomach, staring at the ceiling. From what I can make out, he hasn’t cleaned himself up since his fight with Oliver.

“Rethinking all the terrible choices you made today?” I ask, my voice full of venom.

Surprised, he looks up. His face is worse off than Oliver’s was, and I can’t help thinking…good.

“Felicity—”

“When did you become the brother who thinks he’s the gatekeeper of my love life? When did you become the guy who thinks his opinion is more important than my own? When did you become the guy who thinks he knows better than I do about who’s right and who’s wrong for me? A long time ago, apparently, considering Oliver told me you told him to stay away from me in Thailand.”

He looks like he’s going to argue with me for a few seconds, before he drops his head. “I didn’t want you to end up with someone like me.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “You don’t get to decide that, Ben! Besides, Oliver’s never been like you. Maybe he’s had a little trouble making a relationship stick, but he’s never cheated on anyone that I know of. Unless you know something different.”

Ben shakes his head. “No. He’s never been interested in anything long-term, and I didn’t want you to get your heart broken.”

I can’t really argue Ben’s point about long-term relationships, because it’s true that Oliver hasn’t had, well…any that I can recall.

“Well, now my heart is broken, because Oliver dumped me after your little boxing match back at my office.” A couple of tears make their way down my cheeks, and I don’t bother stopping them. I want Ben to see what he’s done. “I won’t blame it all on you, because I’m sure there are some underlying issues that he’s not telling me about that are making this worse, but you certainly didn’t help.”

He does manage to look genuinely sorry about that.

“You bring me lunch nearly every day because you know that Chris did a number on me, and you chase away Oliver, who’s been nothing but loving and kind to me, not just since I’ve known him, but for the short time we were together, too. I made him happy, and he made me happy, and we were in love and if you cared about me and Oliver, that’s the kind of thing that you should want for us.”

Ben leans forward, resting his hands palm up on his desk. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I think you’ve said enough for today, honestly.”

He nods slightly. “Fair enough.”

“If you really want to do something, figure out how you can make this up to Oliver. You guys have a lifetime of friendship that will not be ruined by this. And you can probably start by telling him that you of all people aren’t someone who has any business judging who’s good for someone else, okay? Because that certainly didn’t help things.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

I’m so angry and hurt right now that I can’t even think of anything at the moment. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I have a headache and I’m too upset to try and make you feel better about yourself tonight.”

All I want to do is go home and lie down. I turn around and walk out of the room.

“Felicity—” Ben says as I leave, but I don’t want to hear anything else he has to say.

At home, in bed, I lie awake and stare at the ceiling. Maybe it’s pathetic, but I’m having a hard time sleeping without Oliver in here with me. It’s kind of amazing how quickly you can get used to someone holding you at night. I really hope it doesn’t take me long to break myself of this habit.

The thought of never cuddling up with him in bed again, never kissing him again, never feeling his warm weight on top of me as he teases and touches me again…it’s enough to make tears spring to my eyes, and I finally just managed to stop crying.

Damn Oliver for being so scared, for not telling me what his issues are, for not giving us a chance to work through them.

I think we made a mistake plays over and over again in a loop in my brain. I don’t know what I’m gonna do to make myself stop hearing those words.

Right when I’m contemplating scrolling through iTunes for an ear worm that might possibly do the trick, my phone buzzes. It’s three in the morning, and some sad, broken part of me hopes it’s Oliver, missing me the same way I’m missing him.

When I see Corinne’s smiling face flashing on my screen, it’s difficult to be disappointed.

“Hey,” I say, voice raspy. “Is everything okay?”

“With me, yes. With you? That’s why I’m calling.”

“I’m okay,” I lie.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a weekend, I’m in bed with my fluffiest pillows and the warmest blanket I own. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Now that everything’s blown up in my face, there’s no reason not to tell her the whole story. So I go back to the beginning, to when everything changed between us in Portland. I tell her about how Oliver said he felt about me, about how happy I was with him for what little time it lasted. It feels oddly cathartic, telling someone everything that happened.

“First, I wouldn’t mind strangling Ben, and I’d probably fly across the Atlantic to do just that if it wouldn’t upset my sister. Second, I knew Oliver was in love with you,” Corinne says with the kind of certainty you can only have after the thing you thought has come true. “But he’s always been a little pessimistic about relationships though, so his reaction to this whole thing doesn’t surprise me.”

“What? I’ve never heard Oliver say anything pessimistic about relationships at all,” I say, genuinely surprised that Corinne thinks that.

“He sure has,” she replies quickly. “It’s been subtle, but I’ve caught a few things here and there. Maybe he’s careful about what he says around you, because he was hoping it would work out between you two.”

Maybe. I’m probably going to be thinking about what happened there for a long time. “He told me he didn’t regret anything the first morning we woke up together in Portland,” I say, trying to figure this whole thing out. “But then today he says he thought it was a mistake.”

“He probably wasn’t thinking straight, sweetie. If Ben had this conversation with him years ago, imagine how much he must’ve wanted it, how much that was hanging over his head. It’s probably one of his worst fears about the whole thing, losing you. Then losing Ben because he lost you. Once he has some time to think about things, he’ll realize that he’s being an idiot. Just don’t get lost in your head until that happens, okay?”

Easier said than done. “I’m probably going to be replaying things for a while.”

There’s a long silence. “Why don’t we do what we did when we were younger, and some idiot boy would break our hearts over the summer when we were halfway across the country from each other?”

“Long distance movie!” We say excitedly in unison. Then we both laugh, and it feels good to experience an actual happy emotion for the first time in what feels like forever. Slipping into the comfortable warmth of nostalgia sounds like a great idea to me.

“Person with the broken heart gets to pick,” Corinne says.

“Is there such a thing as a comedy with lots of explosions?”

Corinne laughs. “I’m sure we can find something. Ten minute break to procure snacks and then I’ll call you back?”

I smile. “Sounds like a plan.”