Page 11 of It Should Have Been Me

“Nah.” A dismissive hand is waved in my direction. “I just tell them you’re my sister.”

I try to suppress a giggle. “Your...Mexican sister?”

“Foster sister.”

“Who you kiss on the mouth?”

“Yeah, they generally don’t understand the dynamics of our family.” The grin stays on his face, but his tone becomes more serious. “I don’t bring women over, Cat. You’re the first to ever come up here and it was a fucking bad idea.” Walking over to me, he opens the drawer and takes out a pair of socks. “We should go.”

“We should.”

But neither of us moves. He just stares at me the same way he always does.

“This is hard,” he whispers.

“Sohard.”

“You know this is your fault, right? You could’ve made this so much easier if you just weren’t so...pretty.” His less-than-authentic grin lets me know that he only said that to lighten the mood.

“You can fuck right off, Scott,” I say, also trying to keep my tone somewhat lighthearted. “You were supposed to bebalding...with a dad bod! And here you are looking like...this. Asshole!”

His grin turns into a chuckle. “I’m not even twenty-seven yet. Why would I be balding?”

“Because I was desperately willing it to be so.” I giggle, shaking my head. “Do you still have the abs?”

“Yeah. You wanna see?”

“Fuck no!” I realize as soon as the words leave my mouth that this is the first F-bomb I’ve dropped in years. Despite the tension in the room, it’s a sign that I still feel so comfortable around him.

“They’re a lot more chiseled now,” he says. “I’ve been working out like a maniac these past few weeks, thanks to you. The thought of seeing you again...it drove me a little nuts.”

And just like that, that tiny bit of playfulness we had going dissipates. I cringe, audibly scoffing my irritation. It seems like every lighthearted moment is followed by soul-crushing reality. Can we just smile politely, have idle chit-chats about the weather, and get through the next couple of weeks without talking about anything deep or significant? It’s hard for us to be around each other, but I would prefer it if both of us tried to act...as if it wasn’t. “You’re impossible. Can you at least pretend like—”

“Like what? Like seeing you again isn’t killing me inside? You want me to stand here and pretend I don’t wish you and I were still together?” He gives a stiff nod with the added jab of a sarcastic smirk. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Hearing that sends my brain into a tizzy, and my heartbeat turns into erratic thumps. When I got on the plane a few hours ago, I had a lot of expectations for this trip and I’d mentally prepared for all of them. I expected awkwardness. I expected resentment. I expected a girlfriend or a wife, maybe even a kid. Even though Scott with another woman wasn’t exactly something I wanted to see, I had prepared myself to see it. But hearing that...Nothing could have prepared me for that.

What am I supposed to do with that? Those words leave me winded for a few moments. They were so blunt, so painful to hear that I have to shut my eyes to stop tears from escaping. He ignored every one of my phone calls, all my texts, every effort I made to try to make it work for three fuckingmonths! He sent me a very clear message. I took that message and my broken heart, and I moved on. Now he’s telling me something different, and my brain is not coping with that information.

Despite my pleading and begging, he still ended it, and then he just ignored me. If he had just answeredonecall, responded toonemessage, if he just told me that he was still willing to make it work, I would’ve come home as soon as that project was done. But he ghosted me instead. The fact that he could cut me out of his life so easily ripped me apart, and now he tells me that he wishes we were still together. That would have been nice to know five years ago. What the hell am I supposed to do with it now?

This would’ve been bearable if we had broken up for another reason. If one of us had cheated, or if we fell out of love, we wouldn’t be in this situation because those reasons entail a change of feelings. But nothing changed. He ended our relationship abruptly and then those feelings had nowhere to go, so now they’re just floating around, hanging heavily in the air between us. They’re looking for a place to settle, desperately trying to go back to where they belong, but both of us have silently resolved to just leave them out there stranded...desolate.

He knows my body language so well that I don’t even have to tell him I’m crumbling inside.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He tosses the jeans and sneakers onto the chest of drawers and pulls me into his arms. “C’mere.”

I bury my face in his chest, deeply inhaling the smell of his spicy cologne. In through the nose, out through the mouth, I breathe in the scent I hadn’t realized I missed so much until now.

He moves back slightly, gently stroking the tears off my cheeks. I don’t know when I started crying. I don’t know when I’ll stop.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a tenderness that only makes my throat close up tighter. “I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. Just forget what I said, okay? You’re happy and that’s all that matters. You wanted to follow your dreams, and...those dreams were bigger than me...and what I could give you. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m not going to say I don’t judge you because...man-bun.”

A giggle hiccups out of me despite the tears rolling down my face.

“But he’s the guy who brings that adventure you crave. He’s the guy who fulfills...everythingyou want out of life.” He takes a moment to recompose himself after saying that. “He’s the guy who makes you happy, so...I’m happy for you, Catalina...Really, I am.”

“And what about you? Are you happy?”

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