Page 17 of Hold Me for Now

“We’ve been together a long time,” he continues. “I can’t just throw that away.” A pause. “That makes sense, right?”

A cruel, awful part of me wants to screamnoat him. No, it doesn’t make sense. That same part wants to say that I don’t care about his promises or his obligations. That if he chooses to walk away from me, he’s a coward.

But that would be a lie. Because Idounderstand.

It makes perfect sense. Of course he has to try.

And the saddest part? If I were in his shoes, I’d make the same choice.

Wouldn’t I?

He watches me carefully, the corners of his mouth pulling downward. “Are you…gonna be okay?”

What am I supposed to say to that?

No, actually, I’m going to shatter into a million pieces. You’re about to walk out that door and take something from me that I can’t name but know I’ll never get back.

Or worse—should I ask him to chooseme?

Demand he throw away a lifetime for someone he just met?

I can’t do that.

I won’t stand in the way of his happiness.

I do what I always do. I take the hit, let it carve into me like a blade, let the pain lodge itself so deep it’ll take years to dig out.

I pull the same old, tired armor over my heart. I force my lips into the best fake smile I’ve got, the one I’ve been perfecting for years, and pitch my voice high and bright.

“I’m great.”

Lie.

As if we were strangers—which, I remind myself, we are—I say, “It was nice to meet you.”

He searches me, his gaze heavy with suspicion. As much as I’m hurting right now, I just want this to be over. To rip off the Band-Aid and bleed out somewhere else. Anywhere but here. The back of my nose stings with unshed tears, but I already broke my rule once and look where it got me. I won’t make that mistake again.

I stare at him without blinking, silently projecting the message ofI don’t care. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.

“Okay…” He hesitates. The silence stretches out painfully long. “I guess, thanks again and good luck.”

Good luck.

Like this was some kind of job interview. As if we hadn’t just laid each other bare, held each other, whispered that we love each other.

Like none of it meant anything.

“You too!” I say, forcing cheer into my voice. I even wave. As if he’s stepping onto theTitanicand I’m standing on the dock, sending him off with a big, bright bon voyage smile.

His face twists like he’s in physical pain. It pinches with discomfort, maybe even disappointment, then evens out, the expression fleeting—gone in a second.

He gives one sharp nod.

Then he turns.

And walks out the door.

It hasn’t even swung shut before I crumple to my knees, sobbing onto my bent forearms. Nausea rises in me. The room spins.

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