Page 86 of Friend Zone to End Zone

“So you’re not together?” He furrowed his brow.

“We weren’t sneaking around behind your back, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” he said. “I’m asking if you’re together now.”

And even though I knew I didn’t have to tell him anything, I found myself saying, “We haven’t officially labeled anything.” I sighed. “But I don’t know, with the way the past few days have gone I guess I’m hoping that that will change.”

He blew out a low breath and leaned back against the wall, like he was only just realizing that this breakup was actually going to stick this time.

That unlike all the other times, he wouldn’t be able to win me back with sugar-coated apologies and empty promises.

“But how are you even considering that?” he asked. “He wants kids and you—”

“I know,” I said, cutting him off.

“Then why even consider it? It could never work out with that issue,” Chad said, like it was a black and white matter where you either wanted something or you didn’t, and every other choice after that was crystal clear.

“It’s not as simple as that,” I said.

“But he wants kids and you don’t,” Chad continued like it should be obvious. “You and I have that in common, which is why we made so much sense. It doesn’t make us bad people. We just have different priorities.”

“We don’t actually have that in common anymore,” I said.

“We don’t?”

I nodded. “I do want kids.” I sighed. “Deep down, I’ve always wanted kids. I just needed to be with someone who could help me believe everything would be okay this time.”

“And Cole does that for you?” He gave me a skeptical look.

“Yes.” As I said it, I realized this was actually a conversation I should be having with Cole. “He does.”

Cole had helped me feel whole and safe and loved. If I had him by my side as my partner in life, I believed we could handle anything that came our way.

And I realized that the longer I stood here talking to Chad, the more time I was wasting that I could be with Cole instead—figuring out if we were interested in the same future.

A future where we got to discover if what we’d built as a friendship could blossom into something even more beautiful.

So, not wanting to waste another moment, I stepped closer to the door and said, “Anyway, I guess that’s all I really had to say to you.”

He looked down at his shiny black shoes for a moment and cleared his throat before peering back up at me. “I guess there’s not really much else to say after that, is there?”

“I guess not.”

In that moment, it was strange to realize that this man in front of me, whom I had at one point been so sure I was meant to marry, was only going to be a distant acquaintance from now on.

Strange to think that you could share so many memories—some bad, but still a lot of good—with a person, and be so entangled in their life for a few years, only to go on to lead separate lives where you only bumped into each other on occasion at the grocery store, said a brief hello and goodbye as your memories passed through your mind, and then moved on with your day and not think about each other again until a couple of years later when you happened to need bread at the same time.

It was sad in some ways. But also comforting to know that that was just the way life was for everyone. Relationships came and went, but the memories you made could last forever.

And I hoped as time went on, I would only remember the good memories I’d made with Chad.

“Think I could get one last hug for old time’s sake?” I asked before leaving since it just felt like the right thing to do.

“Sure.” He stood straighter and stepped closer, holding his arms out for me.

So I gave him a brief hug.

There were no butterflies this time. No sense of belonging in his arms anymore.

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