Meredith

For the first forty-five minutes of the drive home, neither of us speaks, or coughs, or makes a sound of any kind. It’s the noise of my stomach growling over and over that finally prompts Gabe to speak.

“You hungry? We can stop wherever you like.” The resentment in his voice is gone.

I continue to look out my window. “A little.”

Gabe hands me his phone. “See if you can find something that looks appealing.”

After a quick Yelp search, and some help from the GPS, we’re walking into an Italian restaurant tucked away in a strip mall off the highway and my mouth is watering at the thought of breadsticks. We order our food, and engage in polite conversation with the waiter, but Gabe and I barely say two words to one another through the meal. I hate this tension between us and want to find a way to move past this—whatever it is. When there’s nothing left on our plates to keep our attention, I break the silence. “Gabe, about before.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin.

Gabe slowly waves his hand, dismissing the topic. “Forget it.”

His willingness to ignore the issue strikes me the wrong way. “No. Don’t do that. Help me understand. How did you think today was going to go? You wake me up with some random trip, leave me in the dark about it for hours, and then get your feelings hurt when your big idea to bend our lives, like one hundred and eighty degrees, doesn’t have me leaping into your arms, overwhelmed with joy?” With each sentence, the heat behind my words intensifies. I feel myself growing angry all over again, and the look on Gabe’s face indicates he feels the same way.

“We should probably get back on the road,” Gabe suggests, trying to change the subject.

I grab my things and slide out of the booth without looking back. “Fine.” When we get to the parking lot, I turn to face him. “It’s going to be a long damn drive if you don’t man up and admit this was a dumb idea.”

Gabe’s eyes narrow as he swallows back whatever mean thought came to mind and, whatever it is, it’s one I probably deserve for being so coarse. It’s not an excuse, but in my defense, I’m running out of ideas to get him to talk and, I can’t take this tension between us.

He clicks the fob in his hand and unlocks the truck, but doesn’t bother coming around to open my door like usual. Instead, he climbs into the cab, starts the engine, and stares out his window while he waits for me to get in.

What’s that saying about hell, fury, and a woman scorned? Because I get it. I totally get it.

While a rational person would think better of the idea, I am not in a rational state and so, I continue pushing him as we drive. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking? Did you ever stop to consider what I might want?”

Gabe shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders one at a time, as he tries to relieve the tension in his neck.

“Well?”

Gabe replies through clenched teeth. “I told you before, this was all because I was thinking of you. Obviously, that was a mistake.”

Deep down, I’m certain that whatever this was, he meant well. But this idea has echoes from our past, and they are too strong to be ignored. Did he do it again? Did he map out the next few years for both of us, plotting out what he wants and assuming I’d follow him wherever? Did he somehow think I’d be happy about it this time? As if by magic.

My eyes fill with tears at the possibility that, for all his promises to the contrary, this surprise proves he’s no different than everyone else. Exactly the kind of man I didn’t want to get involved with again. A leopard can’t change its spots. I should’ve known better, and now I feel like an absolute fool and that pisses me off. Royally.

“So, this is my fault?” My words are harsh and come from nowhere.

“Huh?” Gabe’s brow raises. “How do you mean?”

We exit interstate seventy-six and I know we only have a few more minutes until I’m home.

“Before. You said you were thinking of me. So, if I didn’t like it, then you must think it’s my fault. That I’m in the wrong because I didn’t fall in love with the idea.”

Gabe twists his head, cracking his neck. “I didn’t say any of that.”

“See, there it is. You didn’t say it. But you are thinking it, aren’t you?”

“Goddamn Mer—you really want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Yes. Please enlighten me so I don’t have to keep guessing.”

“You sure about that?” he asks.

“I’m fucking positive.” I cross my arms and brace myself.

“Fine. Like I told you hours ago, I was thinking about you. How you want to raise a family, and have a career, and not have to defend your every decision to your parents. I was thinking that maybe, by giving up everything in my life for you and the baby, you might show a smidge of appreciation. God forbid you realize how humbling it was to reach out people who used to work for me and ask them for a job. Nooo. Let’s not bother worrying about Gabe here.”

However valid his other points might be, hearing him point out that he was going to sacrifice everything for me, as if I’m some kind of burden to him, sends me over an emotional cliff.

As Gabe turns up the drive, I wriggle the ring over my knuckle and when he pulls to a stop, I place it on the dashboard in front of me. “Gabe, I’m sorry.” My voice is barely a whisper and I can’t bring myself to look at him as I speak. “The last thing I want is to be someone’s burden.” And that’s it. I open the door, hop out of the truck, and burst into tears as I run towards the safety of home.

As much as I want him to, Gabe doesn’t chase after me, he doesn’t say a word. He just pulls away.