Page 61 of Choosing the right Man

I move to the couch and sit, keeping distance between us. I want to look at the floor, but refuse to give myself an easy out. I glance up and our gazes connect. He looks as sad as I feel in this moment.

“It’s been over for a long time, Paul. We need to admit it.”

He glances away for a moment as he shakes his head. But he meets my eyes again as his shoulders sag. “Yes, we do.” His voice is the most subdued I’ve ever heard.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I press my hands between my knees to keep them from shaking. I feel like more needs to be said. This is as difficult as I thought it would be.

“We used to be each other’s everything. We used to laugh together, cry together, and live our lives together. Can you remember the last time we shared a good belly laugh?” I don’t expect an answer, but I can’t stand the silence between us right now, even though it’s been this way for a very long time. “I don’t know when that was. I don’t remember the last time we truly shared with each other.”

“I know,” he says, looking down at the ground. It’s just as hard for him to look at me as it is for me to look at him. “I’ve avoided this conversation too, not even wanting to admit it tomyself. I think it’s the friendship I’m more afraid of losing than the relationship.”

“I agree. It’s hard to let go of a decade. I don’t know if it’s our history, or the comfort of knowing the person you’re with. But we haven’t been happy together for a long time, and that’s not fair to either one of us. Maybe we’ve both been hoping this could somehow be magically fixed without ever discussing it,” I say. It sounds so stupid as the words are spoken aloud.

Paul leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s all of this. We’re very good at ignoring issues. I even thought if we didn’t say anything, the problems weren’t real,” he says.

“But we both know that it’s very real,” I whisper, my throat so dang tight. “We both deserve a partner who wants to hear us, who wants to be with us. We live in the same house, but we’re strangers now.”

“I agree,” he says. “I lost my way to you a long time ago, and haven’t been able to find my way back.”

“This is probably because there isn’t an us to find our way back to anymore,” I tell him, realizing this for the first time. It hurts to say it, but it needed to be said. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown apart, and that doesn’t make us evil; it means we’ve grown apart and gone on to live separate lives.”

Paul lets out a humorless chuckle that makes me flinch. “I despise the phrasegrown apart, like it was accidental. We’re the ones who allowed it to happen. We’re the ones who stopped trying... both of us.” There’s the smallest hint of anger in his tone, but he quickly squashes this. We don’t need to make accusations and point fingers. The passion left us a long time ago, and we don’t need to burn ten years down in flames.

Tears fill my eyes and spill over. “I’m going to move out. Audrey said I can stay with her,” I tell him.

“I can be the one to move. I’m never here,” he counters.

I shake my head. “I can’t stay in this house, Paul. It would hurt too much.” I pause for a moment as I look around the room. “It all feels empty to me now, anyway.”

“I’ll sell it then,” he tells me.

These words close my throat for a moment. This place will become someone else’s home as if we were never anything at all, as if the past ten years never even happened. It’s heartbreaking. It’s why it’s taken me this long to do what I knew needed to be done a long time ago.

“I have to admit, it’s difficult for me to think of another couple living in this house,” I admit.

He gives me a humorless smile. “Yeah, that’s a hard one for me too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You don’t need to rush on getting things out. I have a work trip I’m leaving for tomorrow, but I’m going to leave tonight. It’s just too hard,” he says, his voice growing more and more quiet.

I have to fight panic at these words. This is the last conversation we’re ever going to have. This is final. How do people do this time and again? How do they continuously end relationships? It’s so damn hard, even if you know it’s the right thing to do.

“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him.

“Me neither,” he says. “Take whatever you want, Chloe. I don’t want any of it.”

This crushes me a little even though I’ve said the same thing. When I leave this house, it will be like it never happened. Will we both move on easily? Will we be happier? Will we forget everything we were? It’s heartbreaking to realize that we will move on and both of us will be happier.

“I don’t want much. You can do what you want with it,” I say, a bit of snark in my tone.

“I’ll just hire someone to sell everything. I’ll send you a check,” he says, no emotion in his voice now.

“I don’t want money,” I tell him.

“Then I’ll donate it. I don’t know what to tell you,” he snaps.

I shake my head. “Let’s not do this, Paul, let’s not get mean,” I beg.

He looks up and our eyes meet. He nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is hard, even if it’s what I want.” I try not to let these words sting. It’s what I want too, but it’s still hard to hear.

“Are you at all sad?” I ask, hating that I do.

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