Page 114 of All In
Additionally, it was me who caused our relationship to crumble. I wanted to be the one who made the initial move towards building a life together.
To show him that I’m ready for a future. With him.
A thousand and one scenarios are running through my head about why he isn’t here yet. And the one that is the most prominent is … he and Cara got back together.
And if they did, I only have myself to blame. Point each finger at me, please. Twenty-seven years ago, I made the life-shattering decision to walk away. No matter my reasons, I destroyed us. He never would have dated Cara in the first place if it weren’t for me.
But after seeing him at the restaurant and hearing him say he forgives me, one thing became clear as the weight of decades of guilt lifted from my shoulders.
I am officially done. Done with waiting. Done making mistakes. Done feeling lonely without Sam. Done living my life without him.
I want him. I need him. I love him. Nothing matters more.
Once again, I glance at my phone to get the time.
9:31
I let out an audible sigh as I look out at the three rivers, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. Mentally, I resolve to wait until midnight. Then, I will walk away.
Forever.
A sudden burst of commotion catches my attention, prompting me to spin around and see what’s happening. A group of teenagers are carrying on, laughing, jumping on each other’s backs, collectively having a great time. I watchthem and smile, reminiscing about the fun Sam and I used to have at that age. Before life veered off course and descended into chaos.
As they begin to make their way toward the fountain, my breath catches, because …
There he is.
Standing just feet from me, a smile playing on his lips as soon as our eyes lock.
His all-consuming stare pierces into my soul, leaving me feeling exposed out here in the open.
As he strides toward me, a huge smile spreads across my face, unable to contain my joy. He steps closer, and his expression turns stoic. There is a fixed look of concentration. He doesn’t look sad, mad, happy, or anything, really. If I had to put a word to it, I would say pensive.
Suddenly, I want to throw up.
Thanks to his words on Saturday, I know what he wants. And hopefully, because of my letter, he knows where I stand.
But for some reason, there is still this lingering fear that creeps up inside me. And that’s because, after years of trying, we could never get this right.
As he inches closer, our shared history swirls in my head.
The Dear John Letter.
The shed.
The park.
Nate and Erica.
Our letters and emails.
The lunch dates.
His car and the watch.
Cara and Geoffrey.
All of it.
