Page 171 of Tell Me Something True

When they’d been together before, they hadn’t dated so much as latched on to each other. They were two lonely, lost, and codependent people looking for someone to cling to. She’d gone home with him after their first date and moved in a week later.

Everything between them had been too much. Too fast. Too desperate.

This slow, steady pace was much better. Safer.

Made it easier for them to pretend they were putting in the emotional work, when what they were really doing was still hiding.

Hiding behind coffee dates and small talk and the pretense that they could move forward without having to reveal themselves fully. That they could keep their remaining secrets tucked away. That they wouldn’t have to share the deepest, truest parts of themselves.

That peeling themselves open, revealing their innermost selves for the other to see wouldn’t hurt.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she unlocked her door, opened it, and took a deep breath.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked in a rush.

He nodded and took a step forward, only to stop and raise an eyebrow at her. “Do you want me to come in?”

“I must. I just invited you to do so.”

The right side of his mouth turned up—his grins were coming more often these days, though they remained slow and hesitant, as if he wasn’t certain he deserved to be happy enough to indulge in one.

“You did,” he agreed. “But you’re also blocking the doorway.”

She glanced down at herself and realized she was, indeed, standing in the middle of the doorway, her arms crossed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, then took a step back. Then another. “Please. Come in.”

He studied her a moment. Whatever he saw on her face had him stepping inside. He lifted the glass food containers in his hands. “Want me to put these in the fridge?”

She nodded.

Chewed on her lower lip while he crossed to the fridge. There’d been no surprises between them over the last two weeks. No big revelations from either side. They’d kept things superficial and surface level, never digging too deep. Neither asking too many questions.

For all his claims about wanting to hear about her life since she’d left him, his hope that she’d share more of her secrets with him, he hadn’t pushed.

She should be glad they were taking these small steps, no matter how tiny they were. Should want to continue this pace, no matter how glacial.

She shouldn’t make waves or ask for more.

But they weren’t moving forward.

They were standing still.

“Tell me something true,” she said to his back as he put the containers in the fridge.

He stilled momentarily, then straightened. Shut the door.

Facing her, he tipped his head to the side. “What?”

She wiped her palms down the sides of her shorts. “We’re supposed to be moving forward, but we’re not. We’re where we started except for a few hesitant truths. A couple whispered confessions. It’s like we’re… stuck. Stuck repeating the same mistakes. Holding on to doubts and distrust. Leaving us in the same pattern we were in before.”

“I thought it would be easier,” he said, surprising her with his quiet admission. “I thought I’d be able to let the past go, just because I wanted to. But maybe you’re right. Maybe our old patterns are too strong, too deeply enmeshed to ever change. No matter how much we want them to.” His gaze on hers was intense. Solemn. “And I do want to.”

“I want to, too. And maybe you’re right…”

But she couldn’t finish that thought. She hated the mere idea of giving up.

Hated the idea of giving him up when he was there, right there with her. When he was so close to being hers again.

---