Page 47 of Unless It's You
I’m notromantic relationshipmaterial.
I don’t think my dad was either. One night, during a whispered fight that I listened to from the landing of ourstairs, I heard him ask my mother a single, pained question:don’t you want more?It was like Ben said to me at the end, which is why it was so triggering:how can you want more than we have?
Dad wasn’t romantic relationship material. Neither was Evelyn.
But maybe shewas. Or maybe she wanted to be, could’ve been, and spent her life regretting not trying when she had the chance.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve been in the bathroom for ages, but I feel like I’m on the verge of some great revelation.
What if I had let Ben convince me to get married and have kids? That’s not who I am. Thank god I didn’t. Even though we dated for a year, and I thought I was letting him in, I wasn’t. He didn’t know me. If he had, he would never have asked for those things.
ButEthanknows me better than that, the good and the bad. He knows that I’m the kind of person who would cheat on a bucket list, but also feel terrible about it. And he still wants to help.
I shudder. I should tell Ethan I can get it done—done enough, anyway—without his help. Then in a few weeks, our forced time together will all be over. The bucket list, the commercial... He can walk back out of my life.
But... do I want to live the rest of my life not letting anyone in, like Evelyn did?
I groan and rub my eyes with my palms. I have a vision of laughing with Ethanthatnight. Playing the Unless Game together, staring at strangers, giggling, pointing, judging, gazing into each other’s eyes, and then eventually, feeling his lips on mine. My breath snags at the mere thought of it.
More recently, though, he’s been there for me, like when I was freaking out about the bucket list, or the panic attack I had when I got that text from Reese before I knew it was good news. And he’s opened up to me. About his mom and her flat. How he’s strugglingwith that.
Heneeds help, too, not just me, and I get the feeling he also would never ask for it. I open my eyes.
“I don’t want to live my life not letting anyone in.” I say it out loud, trying it on for size. Then I nod at myself in the mirror like a crazy person. I don’t want to live the next thirty-four years the way I’ve lived the last ones. I want to get close to someone.
Someone like Ethan.
Tell him you want his help, you idiot.My reflection cringes back at me.And then tell him that you want to help him with his mom’s flat.
That feels right. I’m gonna go back out there and be completely vulnerable with Ethan. That’ll come as easily to me as stripping naked and dancing in front of the tube station.
I wish I’d brought in my bag so I could roll on some lip gloss or fill in my eyeliner, which I appear to have partially rubbed away with all my indecision.
He had been so close to me just now, near enough to kiss. He wouldn’t have done that, would he?
I don’t know. I’d bet he doesn’t either.
Maybe I should find out.
“I wantyour help with the bucket list. Like, for real help.” I settle back in my chair and drain the tiny sip left in my wine glass.
He raises his eyebrows. It should be illegal for a face to be so gloriously sculpted.
“Good. Because, to start with, I have a new plan for at least one of the items.” His gaze flits down to my lips for a split second.
My breath catches in my throat. “That was fast.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
Did I imagine that quick glance to my mouth? He’s been thinking about my bucket list. About me. What is this between us that makes me want to trust him?
“Come to my flat. I have kittens.”
I burst out laughing and he grins wider at me. “Yeah, you’ve told me that before. But I’m not adopting a kitten. I don’t want a pet, just like I don’t want kids.”
“Woah.” Ethan raises his eyebrows. “That was quite the jump.” He leans forward and touches my hand, just his left thumb, with a gentle stroke on top of mine. Our faces are incredibly close once again. A shot of electricity skitters up my arm and into my shoulder.What is that?Some kind of malfunctioning nerve, that’s all. Maybe I should get to a doctor.
Sure, I decided back in front of the pub bathroom mirror to let him closer to me, but I’d appreciate it if my body didn’t betray me each time we happen to make physical contact.
