I’m woken from a deep sleep by the sound of the door buzzer. Alex’s arm is draped over me, her warm body pressed against my back. I try to go back to sleep, hoping the drunk person downstairs will eventually figure out that they’re ringing the wrong unit, and move on.
But when the buzzer goes off a third time, I finally throw the covers off, and tread into the living room. “You’ve got the wrong apartment, buddy,” I practically shout into the intercom. There’s a long, drawn-out silence, broken a few moments later by a voice.
Her voice.
“Grayson?”
It’s small and broken and it shatters my kneecaps, claws at the lining of my stomach.
Shit.
What is she doing here?
I told her to go home. I promised I’d call her later. And I was going to. I had planned to call her in the morning, after I’d come up with something to say. After I’d somehow magically figured out how to explain it to her, when I could barely even explain it to myself.
I dart a glance toward the bedroom, where Alex is still sleeping.
I jab the intercom button. “Wait there,” I whisper, “I’ll be right down.”
After sliding on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I quietly ease the front door closed behind me and hurry down the stairs.
The sight of Lia—soaking wet and shaking—is like a sucker punch to the chest, knocking the wind out of me.
I open the door and beckon her into the small lobby but she just shakes her head, refusing to come inside.
“You’re drenched. Get in here.”
“I waited for you,” she says quietly. “I figured you’d need to see a friendly face after you…did it.”
The shame hits me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker, tackling me to the ground, crushing my ribcage. I can’t look at her. Can’t stand to see her like this.
Because I’m a fucking coward.
I’ve always been a fucking coward.
“So,” she says, her voice sounding like it’s been chipped away by an ice pick. “Did you do it?”
I finally lift my head to meet her gaze. Her words are challenging me, even though her expression already knows the truth. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her cheeks are stained with rain and tears. The usual glow about her has been completely snuffed out.
“Lia,” I begin, my hands quivering. I cross my arms and tuck them under my armpits. “I’m sorry. I just…couldn’t do it.”
Her face hardens. Her lips press together in a harsh, rigid line. She nods and starts to turn away. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Wait,” I plead, “let me try to explain.”
“It’s fine,” she says, spinning back to me, even though her bitter tone tells me that it’s certainly not fine. Not that I would ever expect it to be fine. “I get it,” she growls. “Alex has you trapped under her spell. You can’t break free. She’s enchanting. She’s sexy. She’s not afraid of a fucking thing. She’s absolutely one hundred percent perfect. And that’s what you want. But that’s not what I am. So I hope you two are very happy together.”
“Lia,” I try, reaching out to take her hand.
She violently rips it free. “See you at the wedding,” she spits.
And then she’s gone. Disappeared into the rain. Into the night. Out of my life.
I let the door swing shut and stand in the freezing cold water that has pooled under my feet. My eyes sink closed as the guilt of everything I’ve done over the past week coats me like thick, grimy oil.
How could I let this happen?
How could I let things get so far with her?
Somewhere over the course of the weekend, I lost myself. I lost my focus. I let myself be swayed by immature lustful thoughts. I let myself be swept up in a fantasy world with no troubles and no hardships. Instead of turning to face my problems head-on.
But my biggest regret of all is that I let Lia be swept up with me.
She doesn’t deserve that. She shouldn’t have to be a part of my fucked-up quarter-life crisis. If I could take it all back and erase the last few days, I would. In a heartbeat.
I tried to end it with Alex. I really tried. Because I thought that’s what I wanted. But as I sat there in that Vietnamese restaurant with her, staring into her crystal blue eyes, I saw everything. I saw the past eight years. I saw the miserable person I was without her. I saw the way she looked at me on the beach that first day. The way she entranced me and continues to entrance me every day of my life.
Alex was right.
We have always been everything to each other.
We imprinted on one another’s souls. We left marks that nothing can erase.
Our history is as rich and complicated and dramatic as a European nation. And yet, somehow we came through it alive. We found our way back to each other.
I couldn’t throw that away for a couple of mind-blowing orgasms. For a girl I’d known six days.
Sure, Lia and I go back as far as Alex and I do. But it’s not the same. She was a kid then. A little girl. Now she’s…well, she’s amazing. The sex is amazing. Being with her is amazing. But it’s not enough. Not enough to build an entire life around. And certainly not enough to destroy a life for.
My dad destroyed a life. Two, actually. He broke my mother’s heart and left her with a six-year-old son to raise all by herself. He tore the ground right out from under her feet, leaving behind nothing but devastation, all because he thought the grass would be greener somewhere else.
And isn’t that exactly what I was trying to do with Lia?
Search for something better—something easier—instead of sticking around to fix what I already have?
I don’t remember my father—I never really knew him at all—and yet I’ve spent my entire life promising myself I would never become him.
And I won’t.
That much I have control over.
With stiff legs and a heavy heart, I climb the steps back to my apartment and slip through the door. Alex is still fast asleep in my bed. I bend down and softly kiss her cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper into the darkness.
Because I want to make it work.
Because I owe it to myself. To my mom. To her.
And because it’s true. It’s always been true.