Page 37 of Love You Too

He advances anyway and wraps me in his arms. I let him because it allows me to bury my face against his chest and avoid looking at him. I don’t want to see his warm, deep brown eyes that seem to shine only for me. I can’t look at his soft lips that have kissed me senseless so many times and never will again. And I don’t want to see the expression on his face, telling me what I somehow didn’t understand—that he always planned to leave. Without me.

“I can’t have distractions. It’s going to take all my focus to get in shape and earn my place on the team,” he explains, hands out like he’s making a deal with me.

“In shape? You’re in phenomenal shape,” I say, still finding fault with his reasoning, even though I can’t change his mind.

“Pro hockey is different. I need to put on muscle. The schedule’s relentless, games every other day?—”

“I just—I thought we were forever.” I sound naïve, but I’m too sad and hurt to care if I’m exposing my vulnerability to him. I feelgobsmacked, my entire vision for my future evaporating in an instant, and the worst part is that I don’t have the vaguest clue what I’ll do without him in my life tomorrow. And the next day. And the next year.

“I’m sorry. I know you passed up that design internship with that fancy hotel group. Maybe you can still get it?”

My face, streaked with tears, heats with embarrassment. I gave up an impossible-to-get opportunity for him, not that he asked me to do it. But I thought he was worth it. “It was the Four Seasons, not just some hotel group. And no, I can’t get it back.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Trix. This isn’t how I wanted things to end. I just thought—I don’t know—I guess I didn’t understand how real everything would get when I went pro. Like I said, you deserve better in so many ways.” His forehead is creased, shoulders slumped. I see the agony in him. He doesn’t want to break my heart. But that’s not stopping him from doing it anyway. It’s not stopping him from leaving for Canada before graduation and not looking back.

There are probably things I should say. I could be mature and tell him I understand. Wish him luck. But I’m too gutted by the idea that Ren is moving on, and he doesn’t even seem that bummed about it. He’s just…getting on a plane and going. Moving forward, moving on to the career he’s dreamed of, and I’m the one being left behind. “You should leave. I’m sure you have photo ops or pro hockey things to do.”

I sound petty and hurt, but I can’t help lashing out. And the worst part is that I’m more upset with myself than I am with him. I feel lost at the idea of not being Dominick Renaldi’s girlfriend, and it’s embarrassing. Somewhere over the past year of dating him, I lost myself in him and forgot about myself.

Who is Beatrix Corbett and who does she want to be?

Ren leans in and kisses my forehead as his arms wrap around my limp body. I sort of hug him back. We stay that way for a long time, but eventually, his embrace loosens.

Looking at the floor, I barely notice when he opens the door and slips outside. I’m too busy thinking about my future. I have two more years of college to come up with a plan. And when I do, there won’t be anything—or any man—that can stop me from achieving it.

CHAPTER 14

Beatrix

Present Day

I guessI was too shocked and hurt back then to hear what Ren was trying to tell me.

“We were so young…” I say, thinking back to my naïve self at twenty, willing to leave college to follow a guy. Maybe Ren did set me free to grow up and find my purpose. Not that I want to thank him for dumping me, but his explanation makes me feel a little less wounded over how we ended. And I love my career, and it satisfies a creative hunger I didn’t know I had ten years ago.

“We were,” he says, plopping onto the lounge beside me. “And now…look at us. About to have a kid? Guess that means I’m not a kid myself.”

I offer him a small smile. “Says the guy who playssports for a living. Ren, you will always be a kid at heart, even when you’re a dad on the outside.”

He draws a shaky breath. “I’m just…not sure I know how to be one. I didn’t exactly have a great role model.” His body folds over in defeat, and it hurts my heart.

I can remember Ren talking about his dad only once. “My mom said he wasn’t a bad person; he just did bad things,” I recall him saying. Specifically, he drank too much and didn’t think twice about getting into a car when he could barely see well enough to put the key in the ignition. Ren’s mother tried for years to get him to seek treatment, but when Ren was only six years old, his dad drove off the side of a mountain road and died. The saving grace was that he didn’t involve anyone else in the accident.

“I’m sorry,” I say, pretty certain I had the same response back then. I wish I knew now how to say something more helpful.

Ren covers my hand with his. The tiny reassuring gesture reminds me that he still knows me after all this time. “I know alcoholism is an illness, and it wasn’t his fault that he had the disease, but I still hold him accountable for not treating it like one. Then again, I barely knew him. I’ve spent a lot of years in therapy talking about my resentment, and it made me want to double down and be the best father I could. Someday.”

“Just not today.” I can’t help but clarify. I know this wasn’t his choice, and I want him to understand that I get it.

He shrugs. “It wasn’t the plan, but maybe now it is?” He squints like he’s uncertain of what he sees in the distance.

“Maybe. Or not. You should take your time thinking about it.” I know it’s the right thing to give him space, even if a part of me really wants to know right now what he’ll decide.

Ren nods and inhales deeply. “Okay…sure.” He sounds like he’s agreeing to get takeout instead of cooking. He twists, stretching his neck and back. I feel bad for dropping this bomb on him, but what choice did I have? “Honestly, it’s all I can do on most days to get Truman fed and walked.” He doesn’t say what we both know—his travel schedule doesn’t lend itself to much of a stable home life. “It’s why I always put parenthood far down the road. But…plans go awry.” A boyish grin pulls at his lips.

That, combined with his explanation for why he broke things off, cracks my heart open a smidge, and I can’t deny a glimmer of old feelings. I tell myself it’s dangerous to feel anything for him, but my heart disagrees.

Gingerly, he reaches for my hand. It feels right to let him, though I can’t articulate why. “I think…” He lets out a long, slow breath, and I get ready for a big pronouncement. “Maybe we should get some food.”

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