Page 60 of Because of Me

I couldn’t say who chose to sit first. We move in tandem as we veer off the path toward a faded green picnic table under a large gum tree. Amira sits on one side, and every fibre in my body aches to sit beside her, but she nods across the table. I step over the bench, lowering myself down in front of her and reaching over to hold her hand in mine. Her fingers wrap around her grey cup, even though I’m sure it’s empty by now.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I start, even though I don’t know what I’m apologising for. It just feels like something that needs to be said.

“I’m not. It was … everything. It was perfect.”

“We were perfect,” I add with a sigh. “I’m sorry we can’t be perfect.”

Amira shakes her head. Letting go of her empty drink she turns her hand over to twist her fingers into mine. “We could be,” she muses.

“How?” I close my eyes, turning my head until the sun turns my blackened vision red. I let it burn through my eyelids, trying to dry the tears before they come.

“You know how.” Her fingers squeeze my hand, and she tugs my arm. “Noah, look at me.”

I do. Of course I do. I always do.

“We’ve both been talking to Cassidy.”

She nods. “She’s right. It might be the only time she’s given me good advice. And you said it last night. If I’m going to be able to learn this is real, I need to know none of it is fake.”

“None of it was ever fake, Cupcake. Surely you know that.”

“I know you think that. And I believe you. I don’t believe myself.” One sole tear begins tracking its way down her face with her words. I watch the path it takes, over her cheek, past her lips, down her chin.

I stand over the table to wipe it with my thumb. Cupping her face, I hover as close as I can with the table in between us. “I believe in you.”

“It’s not enough.”

My heart begins to crumble, just like I knew it would. Bit by bit, pieces of me fall to the ground. It takes more than a few of them to realise they are tears. All the ones I’ve tried to hold in for the past forty-eight hours, spilling from me until there’s no stopping them. All this time I hoped, I should have known nothing ever came that easily for me. I should have been prepared for the blow but as it hits me, I realise I never stood a chance.

“I love you, Amira. Isn’t that enough?”

Leaning into my hand, Amira closes her eyes to breathe. One long inhale followed by a shaky exhale that lands on my wrist. “It should be, that’s the problem. This—all my issues—have never been because of you. It’s all because of me. Because of my father and how determined I was to prove him wrong when he was right all along. I don’t need to settle down and marry a man, but after all my complaining and fighting his ideals, it turns out that’s what I want after all.”

She leans back, spinning her leg over the bench seat. The final pieces of my heart shatter as she stands to walk away. I want to scream, to chase after her, to refuse to let her go. But instead of heading back to the path like I thought, she circles the table and sits beside me. Her legs still face away from the table, like she’s ready to get up and leave as soon as she can, but she’s here, for a moment longer at least.

“I don’t want this to be goodbye, Noah.” Her head drops to my shoulder, and I turn my neck to rest my cheek near her forehead.

“It feels an awful lot like it is.”

“How many people do you know, how many happy couples, spent time settling into their relationship before meeting the families and moving in together?”

I shrug my shoulder against her, and she sits up to face me. Twisting her body, she hooks one leg onto the chair and pulls my hand into her lap.

“Seriously? Everyone, right? No one starts a relationship on a lie and works backwards. Changing how I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life was always going to be tough, but it happened so suddenly. I need it to slow down.”

“The rest of your life?” I shouldn’t get hung up on those words. She probably said them in the heat of the moment. But I can’t help myself from fixating on them. Being away from Amira will hurt more than a wine barrel falling off the racks and onto my toe. Knowing a small part of her is thinking we’re end gamemightmake it a little easier.

Amira shifts, facing away from the table again. “Maybe,” she says as she tips her head to the sky.

My fingers twitch, aching to curl themselves in her hair as it dangles back against the table. The muscles in my legs cramp, begging to turn toward her. My arms strain against their place resting on the table, ready to haul her onto my lap. To hold her there and never let her go.

“Maybe it’s selfish,” she muses as she drops her head. “But if we weren’t living together, maybe I could settle intousproperly. I could get used to the idea slowly, instead of all at once. I want everything we are to be real, none of it propelled forward because of the lies we told my family. Can we do that?”

“Cupcake, we can do whatever you need.” Finally, I turn my body to grab her hands in my own. I rub gentle circles on her wrist with my thumb. “But I can’t just pretend none of this ever happened.”

“I don’t want to either. I don’t want you to live with me as my boyfriend or attend family events as my boyfriend. I just want you tobemy boyfriend.”

My heart flips inside my chest, understanding, finally, what she needs. What she wants. “Does your boyfriend get to kiss you on the park bench, under the sun that’s slowly burning his neck?”

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