Page 85 of Sleepover

“You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to apologize. You were honest with me the whole way. I just thought—”

That all the little signs that he was still in love with her didn’t mean anything because maybe he was falling for me, too.

Sound familiar? Trevor and Helen much?

I bury my face in my hands.

“Elle.”

I look up at him.

“It’s just a thing I do,” he says, gesturing with his chin at the journal. “I write to her—a therapist said it was a good idea, and it is. It helps. I tell her stuff—I guess you saw that.”

“I’m sorry I read it. It was just there, and I—”

“No, I get it. It’s not like you snuck into my bedroom and started going through my stuff.”

“I’m just being a baby. When you love someone the way you loved Lucy, you don’t just—two years isn’t very long, is it?”

He’s shaking his head. “No.”

“I’m sorry, Sawyer. I’m so, so sorry you lost her.” My face is wet, and I can’t figure out why. “If I could bring her back for you, I swear to God, I would. I mean that. If I could make it so you and Jonah could have her back, I would.”

The moisture on my face is tears. I’m crying.

He takes a step toward me, like he wants to comfort me, then stops.

I gulp air, trying to slow the flow of tears, unsuccessfully. “It’s okay,” I say to him. To myself. “I’m okay. It’s just—I think it might be too soon. For both of us. You still love Lucy, and that’s okay. That’s good. And right. And healthy and normal. I’m the one who’s fucked up. Trevor did a number on me, and—the thing is, Sawyer, I just don’t think I can do it again.”

“Do what again?” he asks, looking bewildered.

“Be with someone who wishes he were with someone else.”

He’s frozen. And because I know him as well as I do, I can tell: He’s thinking about it. Because he’s Sawyer, because he listens, because things like this matter to him, he’s really thinking about it. Asking himself if it’s true.

The room is so quiet I can hear the hum of the heat pump outside and the sound of Sawyer’s breathing, rising and falling.

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it in a long sigh.

That’s when I realize I’m holding my own breath. Waiting for him to deny it, to say, I don’t wish I were with Lucy. I only want to be with you.

Of course he can’t say that. One of the loveliest things about Sawyer is how truthful he is. How incapable of deception, of himself or anyone else.

“I do care about you, Elle. So much.” He says it earnestly. Fervently, even. His eyes tell me he means it.

Something inside crumbles, the scaffolding I’ve used to hold myself up these last few weeks, despite my doubts. And I just barely keep it from showing on my face. It hurts enough that I want to wrap my arms around myself to hold the pain in.

I nod. “I know.”

I also know what I’m about to give up. The best sex of my life, one of the best friendships I’ve ever had, the illusion that maybe someday whatever’s between us would grow into something more, that Sawyer and Jonah and Madden and I could be a family. It’s a lot to walk away from, but I am determined to build on a sturdy foundation the next time around, and that foundation starts with me being honest with myself.

It’s my turn to take the deep breath and sigh it out. “It’s been so good, Sawyer. So good. I’m grateful. I really am. And I’ll miss you.”

He closes his eyes, and an expression I can’t read crosses his face. Then he opens them again. “I’ll miss you, too,” he says, and I can hear how much he means it.

“I’m going to, um, head home. Text me if Madden needs me?”

He nods. “Sure.”

I make it all the way back to my own bedroom before I cry again.

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