My stomach is a ball of nerves.
I’m in love with your ex-boyfriend... Just say it, Bree.
I knot my hands around the steering wheel and keep my focus forward while Courtney rambles happily in the seat next to me.
Since the moment I picked her up to drive her to the airport she’s been talking about Anthony. About how much fun she had on her date with him and how she hates that she has to leave already. I listen without comment, waiting for the right moment to drop the bomb that will most likely blow up our friendship of fifteen years. A friendship I pray she will give me the chance to rebuild.
I know how wrong what I’m doing is. I know I’m the bad guy in this scenario; trust me, I do. And I wish it had all happened so much differently. But it didn’t, and now I have to face the music.
By the time we’ve reached the airport, I’ve opened and closed my mouth so many times I swear my jaw hurts, all the while never actually saying a damn word. Every time I would work up the courage to go for it, Court would start talking again and I’d lose it.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea anyway. Maybe telling her right before she’s about to catch a flight to go back home isn’t the way to go. I’m sure she’ll have questions and there’s a lot of things I need to say. Saying them in the middle of an airport minutes before she’s getting ready to board a plane is not how I pictured this going. Of course, falling in love with her ex-boyfriend wasn’t really on my list of things to do either.
“It was so good seeing you, Bree.” Court stops just a few feet from the security line and turns to face me, pulling me into her arms.
“It was so good to see you too,” I choke out, guilt so heavy on my heart I’m not sure how to keep my emotions in check.
“You take care of that boy, okay?” She smiles, pushing my hair over my shoulder.
“I will.”
“And make sure you call me and tell me how his first day of Kindergarten goes, okay?”
“I will,” I promise.
“God, I hate goodbyes.” She fans her face, trying to dry the welling tears behind her eyes. “Maybe I should follow everyone else’s lead and just move out here too,” she jokes, but I get the feeling she might actually be considering it.
I’m not sure how I feel about that, and I hate that it’s this way. Take Ant out of the equation and I’d be over the moon at the prospect of having the three of us back together again. But Ant is a very large part of the equation, and that complicates things.
“I love you so much, you know that right.” She pulls me in for another hug before I have the chance to comment.
“I know. And I love you too.”
God, there’s so much more I need to say, so many things I need to explain, but I can’t push out a single one. Instead, I squeeze her tighter, knowing that once she finds out the truth I may lose her forever.
“Okay, I gotta go.” She steps back. “Be good.” She smiles.
“Always.” I laugh when she throws me a knowing smirk before turning on her heel and quickly walking away.
I watch her for several seconds, wondering if things will ever be the same with us again after she finds out what I’ve done. And right there in the middle of that airport, I grieve for the loss of my friend, of my sister, of the one person I swore I would never hurt.
I know I’ve lost her. Even if I haven’t actually lost her yet, I know it’s inevitable. And then I wonder how I became this person. How I just stood here and told her how much I loved her knowing that I’m betraying her. Knowing that just hours ago I was in the arms of the man she used to love, a man she may very well still love.
I shake my head, trying to push away the thought. I can’t change the past. All I can do is move forward. I just wish I had the courage to tell her the truth weeks ago when this whole thing started.
I knew I was falling for Ant. I knew it when she called me last month. I knew it when she showed up at my door three days ago. I knew it as I drove her to the airport while she went on and on about the date she had with him. And yet I never uttered a single word.
The drive back to my apartment is a quiet one. The voice in my head is hell-bent on making me focus on the bad when all I want to do is look at the good. And the good is in the form of a man I’ve fallen so hard for that I’m not sure I even understand the depths yet.
Anthony—just thinking his name brings a smile to my face. I guess in a way that’s how I know it’s worth the risk.
When I finally arrive home an hour later, I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically, and all I want to do is climb into Ant’s arms and remember what all this is for.
He’s sitting on the couch when I enter the apartment, his cell phone pressed to his ear. It takes me less than a second to realize something isn’t right. I can tell by the flush of his cheeks and the darkness in his gaze that whoever’s on the other end of that call is not saying anything he wants to here.
“I’ve already told you no, I don’t know why you continue to press me on this,” Ant speaks as I drop my keys on the table and take a seat on the couch next to him.
He instantly pulls my hand into his lap and stretches my fingers over his thigh, letting out a slow exhale like my touch somehow grounds him. I guess I know the feeling.
“And so he should,” he bites into the phone. “I’m not going to suddenly forget everything that man did to me because he’s dying.”
He pauses as he listens to the other person speak.
“No, Mom,” he speaks louder. “I said no. Now stop calling me. Stop trying to get me to do something you know I’m never going to do. Let him die. I hope it fucking hurts like hell.”
He ends the call without another word and then whips his phone across the room. It bounces off the wall and falls to the floor with a loud thud, his eyes fixated on where the device now lays face up on the other side of the room.
“Hey.” I try to get him to look at me but he leans forward, dropping his head into his hands on a deep growl.
Knowing I can’t force this, I sit silently next to him and give him the time he needs. I only witnessed a small snippet of the conversation; who knows how long he’d been on the phone before I got here. Who knows what his mother said to him or what buttons she pushed in an attempt to get him to do what she feels like he should do.
It makes me sick. And it makes me sad for Ant. I know better than anyone what having a family like that is like. Always out for their own benefit, never truly putting you or your needs first.
“I’m sorry about that.” He finally lifts his head after several moments and gestures to the phone on the floor. “I shouldn’t have thrown that with Jack in the other room.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “He didn’t see anything. Don’t worry about that.”
“She just makes me so fucking mad,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You want to talk about it?” I offer.
“Same old bullshit. She’s trying to get me home to make amends with my father. Apparently, he’s taken a turn for the worse, and they don’t think he’s got more than a few days left—if that. I know that I should…” he starts, turning his conflicted gaze to me. “I know that I should go, that I should make peace, but I can’t. I can’t give him that satisfaction. How fucked up is that?”
“Hey,”—I slide into his lap and wrap my arms around him—“don’t do that to yourself,” I say, running my hands gently through his hair.
“I just… Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”
“Does any part of you want to say goodbye to him?” I ask point blank.
“No,” he answers without hesitation.
“You’re sure?” I question, pulling back enough to look down at his face. “I understand better than anyone why you don’t want to give him that satisfaction,” I say, seeing the questions in his eyes that he chooses not to ask. “But I’m asking about you. Do you need to say goodbye? Not for him but for you.”
“I said my goodbyes to the father I wished he would be long ago. I have nothing left to say to him. I have no love left in my heart for him. But I can’t shake this feeling.”
“What feeling?” I press for more.
“Guilt,” he says simply.
“You have nothing to feel guilty for, Ant. He did this to your relationship. This is on him. Do you hear me?” I force his face upward when he tries to look away. “Don’t let him win.”
“I love you.” He says it so naturally that it just rolls off his lips.
“I love you too,” I repeat, leaning in to lay a soft kiss to his mouth.
“How did things go with Courtney? Fuck, I was so preoccupied with this bullshit I totally forgot where you just were,” he says, his forehead drawing together in concern.
“I didn’t.” I pause. “I couldn’t tell her.”
“Bree,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Before you say anything, I will tell her. I meant what I said last night and this morning—I want this. But I have to do it my own way, and dropping it on her right before she boarded a plane just didn’t feel right.”
“I get it.” He kisses my shoulder. “I don’t care when you tell her, Bree, only that you do. And for your sake, not hers. I see how heavy this is weighing on you.”
“I know.” I let out a breath. “I’ve just never dealt with anything like this before. In all the years we’ve been friends there’s never been such a clear line crossed. I’m afraid she won’t forgive me.”
“Give Court a little credit. She loves you, and I think ultimately she just wants you to be happy.”
“You make me happy.” I smile.
“Which is why when it’s all said and done she will accept this.” He gestures between the two of us.
“I hope you’re right.” I push off his lap, standing.
“I’m always right, or haven’t you figured that out by now?” He smirks.
“You’re so full of yourself.” I chuckle, sneaking down the hall to peek in on Jack, who is sitting in the middle of his bedroom driving cars on his racetrack area rug.
I smile and watch him for a long moment before quietly pulling his door closed and heading back out into the living room.
“What did you mean earlier when you said you understood why I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction?” His question seemingly comes out of nowhere and it takes a minute to process what he’s asking.
“I just meant I get it.” I shrug, picking up the puzzle pieces off the coffee table that Jack was working on this morning.
“No, you said it like you knew from experience. What’s that about?”
“Nothing.” I blow it off, turning to drop some of the pieces into the puzzle box.
“You never talk about your parents,” he observes. “I know your dad left when you were little. That’s it. You never talk about your mom. I know you moved here to get away from her, to get Jack away from her. I just don’t know why.”
“Let’s just say my mother is not a very nice person, and as far as I’m concerned I no longer have a mother.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Ant,” I say, dropping the box on the table and making my way into the kitchen to get a water.
“Why won’t you tell me?” Ant appears in the doorway, clearly not ready to let this go just yet. “I’m sorry to push. I just, I want to know every part of you.”
“My mother is not in my life, nor will she ever be again. She will never meet her grandson or play the role of doting grandparent. She’s not a part of me,” I snip, pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator and taking a long drink before turning to face him.
“But she is a part of who you were, and that means something to me.”
“Ant.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Let’s just say my mother makes your father look like a saint,” I say, brushing past him on my way out of the kitchen.
“Hey.” He catches my arm, halting my steps. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” he asks, turning me toward him.
“I know,” I say weakly, finally meeting his gaze.
I want to tell him the truth—that my mom was a drunk who shared me with her boyfriends, whether intentionally or not. I want to tell him about the years of neglect and abuse. How when I was seven one of her drinking buddies, Mark, fingered me for the first time while she was out on a beer run. How he was the first of three different guys, and that each time it got worse until I was not only having sex with one of her boyfriends but enjoying it.
How do you tell someone something like that? How do you just bare your soul and not expect for them to look at you differently?
“I just don’t want to talk about it is all.” I sigh, allowing him to pull me into his arms.
“Okay.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry for prying.”
“It’s okay,” I speak into his chest.
“What do you say we avoid heavy topics for the rest of the night, and I take you and Jack out for pizza and ice cream?” he offers, smiling down at me when I pull back to look up at him.
“I’d say you know the way to my heart, Mr. Treadway.” I grin, pushing past the heaviness that has settled in my chest just thinking about my mother.
“Why don’t you go grab Jack, and I’ll go pull the truck around to the front?”
“Sounds good.” I push up on my tiptoes and kiss his jaw before taking off in the direction of Jackson’s room, grateful to have avoided having a conversation I have no desire to have right now.
There’s too much going on already. Between me and Ant and whatever it is we’re doing here—to Courtney, to his dad and the clear rift in his family—everything is so up in the air right now. So many things are uncertain. I don’t want to give him a reason to be uncertain about me, and I feel like that’s exactly what having that conversation would do.
I can’t share that part of myself with him, not yet. I’m just not ready. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.