Page 19 of I Do With You

“Where’d you say he hangs out at?” Ben asks, with the worst poker face I’ve ever seen. He looks mad enough to smash the guitar in his hands over Roy’s head.

I shove his knee with my toe. “You’re not going after him any more than my dad or brother are. I don’t need that.”

“Whatdoyou need?” Ben plucks a few chords, giving me a moment to think of a real answer, not a flippant, superficial one.

I told Joy I needed time. I told myself that too. But the truth is, I think what I need more than anything is to spread my wings in a way I never have before. I’ve been living inside a cage—a beautiful, comfortable one I willingly went into and that most people would be proud to live in. But before it’s too late, I want to see what I’m capable of. Crash or fly, I want to experience it all. And if I ever choose a cage—ahem, I mean marriage—it’ll be with someone who doesn’t make me feel trapped.

Putting this off and distracting myself isn’t going to do me or Roy any good. I need to grow some metaphorical balls and handle things. Because I may not know what I’m doing, but I know what I’m not doing—marrying Roy.

“I need to call Roy,” I admit. I don’t miss the flash of disappointment in Ben’s eyes, but he starts to leave, presumably to give me privacy to make the call. “Wait. Will you sit with me while I do?”

He presses his lips together but sets his guitar aside and sits back down. Once he’s next to me on the couch, a pillar of strength even though he doesn’t agree with what I’m about to do, I pick up my phone and dial Roy’s number. I have him saved asHubby To Be, which seems ridiculous now.

“Hope? What the fuck, babe?”

Great greeting there, Roy,I think as I close my eyes against his anger.

“I’m sorry,” I say, hot tears falling down my cheeks. I’m not crying for Roy or even for myself, but for the me I was a few short days ago. That girl’s gone.

“You should be sorry. You left me standing up there like a fucking idiot.”

I swear I hear a rumble in Ben’s chest, and I glance over at him, holding up one finger. I don’t need him to be mad on my behalf. I’ve got this. I think.

“Roy, I’m sorry I left like that. But I can’t marry you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m sorry.” The words come out in one long, rushed sentence with no breath until the end, when I finally inhale again. It feels like my lungs are expanding for the first time in a long time.

“What?” Roy laughs like he doesn’t believe me, like what I’m saying is a joke, even though I’m dead serious. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” The irony of those two little words isn’t lost on me, and I rush to tack on, “I do mean it.”

“But it’s always been me and you.” Roy sounds off-balance, which I guess I can understand. But that isn’t going to change my mind.

“I know. That’s the problem. I need to just bemefor a little while. Figure out who Hope Barlowe is beyond Roy Laurier’s girl.”

“What do you mean? Youaremy girl. You’ve always been my girl, Hope. Since that first day I saw you in the hallway and put my arm around your shoulders, it’s been us.”

My tears fall freely at the image he pulls up in my mind. I was thrilled when he sought me out in that busy hallway, shocked when he publicly laid claim to me with that possessive arm, and proud to be by his side. I’m not sure when that changed, and walking away from him now is terrifying, but it’s the only thing I’m sure of.

“I know. But all day—when I was getting prepared, when Joy buttoned up my dress, when Dad was walking with me—every moment I should’ve been ready to run down the aisle to you, I was panicking. I almost bolted a dozen times yesterday, and it shouldn’t be like that. You don’t deserve it. Neither do I.” Admitting that is like prying openmy chest and showing him my deepest, darkest fears, but he deserves the truth. I owe him that after everything we’ve been through together.

“Where are you? I’ll come get you so we can talk about this face-to-face.” Roy doesn’t address what I said, or at least not head-on. Though I suspect if I were saying this to him directly, I would give in to him. I have so many times before.

Next to me, Ben shakes his head, his eyes stone and his jaw tight like he knows Roy only wants to talk to me “face-to-face” so he can use his presence to convince me to change my mind before I can process more.

I appreciate his strong advice, but I don’t need it. I already know that, too, and can feel it down to my bones that I’ve let Royconvinceme of a lot of things over the years.

“No. I don’t want to see you,” I tell him after taking a deep breath. “But you deserve to know what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know I did. I still am. And I’m sorry.”

I drop the phone in my lap, needing my hands to scrub at the tears streaming down my face in rivers. I sniffle loudly, snot threatening to fall too.

“Hope? Hope?”

I feel Ben take the phone, and through my wet lashes, I see him end the call and set it on the table—surprisingly gently, as if by respecting my phone, he’s respecting me. He’s barely sat back in his seat when I throw myself into his arms, my face pressed to his chest as I fall apart. Again.

He must regret the day that dart landed on Maple Creek because all it’s brought him is drama-filled tears from a hot mess of a girl who doesn’t know herself well enough to have a clue what her next step should be.

“Damn, girl.”

It’s all he says as he rocks me tenderly, running a comforting hand over my hair and down my back. I don’t know how long we stay likethat, with him soothing me as my broken heart settles in pieces in my chest.

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