Page 88 of Every Version of You

To my surprise, my throat locks up and tears start to form. “I thought we had an agreement. Why would you fuck him when I’m right here?”

“BECAUSE HE DOESN’T MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!” she shouts, but I’m too pissed and stunned and miserable to say anything back. “I can’t be casual with you, Raf,” she cries. “My heart demands more. I want, I need commitment. I want to be so thoroughly loved and committed to and labeled as yo—someone’s partner. Not a fuck buddy. Not a baby mama. I am wife material, Rafael. You can’t keep pretending I’m your wife just because you can’t let anyone else in. I’m sorry, but I need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop with all the affection. As platonic as it may seem to you… I can’t do it anymore. My brain—my heart—can’t separate platonic from romantic with you. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for the rest of our lives,” she says through more broken sobs, touching her belly. “And I can’t keep doing this to myself, Raf. I think this is the only way I can keep you in my life.”

Has she been considering cutting me out of it? The thought cuts me deep—deep in a place I didn’t know existed. How can she possibly consider that?

When she opens the door again, Jared is standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He looks up at us, swiftly climbs the stoop and reaches for her hand.

With every ounce of desperate pleading, I choke out, “Please don’t leave, Angel.”

She’s already one foot out the door when she turns back with a serious set to her brow as she tries to push through the tears. “Why, Raf?”

She crosses her arms and gives me a moment to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I don’t see how this can keep going the way it is,” she continues. “Tell me you love me like I love you. Tell me this isn’t hopeless. Because I either need all of you, or I need to find someone else who can.”

Everything inside me begs for me to respond, to say something—anything—to get her to stay, but I’m frozen. Why can’t I say anything? I love her so much. I care for her deeply, but there’s an internal force blocking me from telling her more. I do love her as a friend, but it’s not enough. Somehow, it’s both not enough and too much.

You’re never enough, I think to myself.

Angie wipes at the tear streaking down her face and sighs. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, she leaves me silent and crying as she climbs into the car of Jared fucking Holloway.

1. Shaky Hands by VACAY

Chapter 29

October 4th

Angie

“Are you sure you wanna be dropped off here and not at home?” Jared asks, putting his sleek BMW into park in front of Cora’s house.

“I’m sure,” I reply with a sigh. I’m drained from the events of tonight. I admitted to my best friend of over twenty years that I was in love with him. I can’t go back there right now. I don’t know when I can. I don’t know when I’ll be able to face him again.

I already texted Cora the situation, and she told me I was more than welcome to stay with her.

Jared has been nothing but a gentleman tonight. He’s sent me several text messages and calls since I last saw him, before he had knee surgery and retired from playing rugby altogether. Our conversations were always brief, and like always, he was flirtatious. But I had no interest in going out with him until this week. Until I pulled the plug on the arrangement with Rafael—pulled the plug on affection and sleeping in the same bed.

When he asked me out, he knew full-well I was pregnant, and I knew full-well I had to replace Rafael in my heart. I was grasping at straws. I was hoping to find a deeper connection with Jared—someone I used to trust with my body, but not to the same level I trusted Raf. I wanted to see if there could be more with him.

And in my desperation, I hurt my best friend. My plan was to quickly change from work before he picked me up—not to find Rafael at home waiting for me and cooking enough food for a family holiday. He was never supposed to know about my evening with Jared. I know it blindsided him and I feel like shit for the way he found out.

I had no intention of sleeping with him tonight though—I knew I couldn’t do it. Not out of consideration for Raf, but because the idea of sleeping with someone else feels completely wrong, even with someone I trust like Jared.

“Thanks for dinner and letting me talk about it with you, Jared. It means a lot.”

The corner of his mouth curls up, then he puts his hand on my knee and strokes his thumb against the fabric of my maxi dress. The placement is low enough that it reads as friendly and not suggestive—a perfect picture of how tonight’s date has been with him. Jared might be a little dumb, but he knows how to read a room and be a friend. Maybe I was too shaken with emotion to properly evaluate him, but that outside-the-bedroom spark doesn’t exist between us. The spark I know all too well, as misguided as it is.

“Anytime, Angie. We go way back. Call me whenever you need to.”

“Thank you,” I say softly and reach for the handle.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, jumping out of the car and coming to my side. And even though it’s Jared opening my door, all I can picture is Rafael doing it for me.

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