Page 103 of If It Can't Be Us

Are all the girls Leo brings home like her? A pretty face with a shit personality? God, it makes me question so many things… about him, about me.

But Leo has a great personality, and I believe he is a good judge of character. He’s a solid, well-rounded human, aside from his many bedroom conquests, which are a result of his decision to stay single because of his fucked-up past. I can’t judge him for that.

I press the palms of my hands against my forehead, gripping my hair with my fingers. Agh! I can’t even judge this Ashley girl. Clearly, she was trying to get under my skin, but she’s under the Leo spell. And goddamn, I can’t blame her because I’m going insane from the very same man.

Giving up on sleep, I quietly slip downstairs to watch TV, hoping the mindless activity will help me relax and take my mind off things. Regardless, I have to talk to Leo tomorrow about the friend comment. I need to know what I am to him, that this is going somewhere. I can’t waste my time with someone who doesn’t want more. I want so much more, marriage, a family someday, and if Leo doesn’t want that, then I can’t be with him.

I really hope he does want that because I don’t want a life without Leo. I already lost Ben, and the thought of facing another heartbreak feels unbearable. Andif it can’t be us,I think a part of me will die all over again.

* * * * ** * * * *

I think I slept from 2:30 to 4:00 on the couch. After waking to pee, I did some yoga on the rooftop, trying to stretch away the tension, but it didn’t help. I showered and got partially ready for the day.

It’s 5:30 now. Leo’s usually up by this time, but he fell asleep late too. Normally, I’d be up on the rooftop with my coffee, excited to sit with him as the sun rises. Instead, I sit at the dining room table, my leg bouncing, fingers tapping my Yeti mug, my stomach a nauseated mess. I stare out the window at the river. The morning sun has already risen and reflects off the water, creating a blinding effect that pours into my front window.

I take a sip of my coffee, hoping it will settle my nerves. What if he doesn’t want more? What if this is all we’ll ever be?

I hear Leo’s footsteps as they make their way down the two flights of stairs. My ears perk like a coyote on the prowl as he pads into the kitchen. The familiar jumbling and clanking of the espresso machine, the whistling of milk being steamed—all familiar noises of our morning routine.

I debate going into the kitchen or waiting for him here. Where do I want to have this conversation that I don’t want to have?

Finally, I muster the courage and head to the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. Leo is standing with his back to me as he prepares his coffee. The kitchen island stands between us, a barrier both physical and emotional.

“Hey,” I say, my voice monotone and barely above a whisper as I step into the room.

“Hey, babe, why aren’t you on the patio?” Leo kisses my cheek and settles into a stance across the kitchen island from me. “I was going to come join you up there.” He studies me for a moment. “Are you upset about something?”

I sigh, resting my head in my hand, my elbow propped on the countertop.

“Come on then. Out with it.”

I force my head up, meeting his gaze even though it’s so damn tough right now.

“We need to talk about last night,” I say. “And before you say anything, can you please do me a favor and not play dumb? I know that you know why I’m upset, and it’s not because of that Ashley girl.” I give him a pointed look. “Even though she was a real bitch, by the way. Great job with that one,” I add snarkily.

He lets my comment hang in the air, the tension thick between us. Neither of us knowing how to start.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want to discuss how I introduced you, yeah?” he asks.

I fold my arms across my chest, giving a slight nod, trying to steady myself.

“You introduced me as your friend.” I elevate my voice a notch. “Yourfuckingfriend. What was that? Is that all I am to you? Just another one of your friends?”

“You want to define what we are… put a label on us?” he asks cautiously.

“God, could you not patronize me with your bullshit therapist questions? I can’t do that right now. I just need you to have a normal conversation with me, without the psychoanalysis. I need to know why you called me your friend. And I need to know what I am to you. Right now… just say it.” I let out an audible breath of annoyance.

“Okay.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his voice edged with frustration. “You want to know why I called you my friend? Because you are my goddamn friend. Mybestfucking friend, and we haven’t had a discussion about what we are.” He pauses, locking eyes with me. “Did you want me to introduce you as my girlfriend? Is that it? Well, we haven’t talked about that, Vivian. I’m not going to assume anything. Could you imagine if you thought of me as a friend with benefits and I introduced you as mygirlfriend? That would put you in a really uncomfortable, awkward position.”

I sigh. “Okay…” I say slowly. “That’s fair.” It really is. I stand there, arms folded, as if they alone can protect my feelings. “Let’s have that conversation now, then.” I say calmly but with intensity.

“This isn’t exactly the tone I’d like for that conversation,” he says.

“What’s wrong with the tone? We’re just talking.”

“You’re upset, Vivian. Let’s talk about this when we’re both calmer.”

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