Page 102 of Any Second Now
But I can’t say those things directly quite yet as he can’t even comprehend me telling him we’re never getting back together.
“I’ve never stopped loving you, Ral,” he says, looking up at me, still hunched over.
My instinct is to reassure him that I love him too, but I resist. I care about him deeply, but that’s where it stops.
“I’m not in love with you.” My voice is firm but gentle.
We’ve been at this for an hour and I’m burnt out. He sighs and shuts his eyes.
“And I’m exhausted.” I stand. “I need you to leave now. Leave the campsite and Fort Collins.”
“No.” Jacob looks up, his expression panicky. “Can we meet up once more?”
I shake my head.
“Tomorrow? Please? Then I promise I’ll get out of your way. I’ll get out of your… life.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but I desperately need him to leave me alone right now.
Jacob departs the campsite when I agree to meet up with him tomorrow evening, and I head back inside. To do what? I’m exhausted, but I won’t be able to nap. I’m wired, but don’t have the focus to cross-stitch.
I collapse on the loveseat and lean my head back.
My heart hurts on so many levels.
Watching Atticus drive away upset was the worst feeling I’ve had since I found out that Jacob had been secretly losing money.
But I feel like I owe Jacob one last time to talk.
Or maybe I don’towehim that, but I want to give him one more chance to accept what’s not going to happen between us.
Even though it’s upsetting to me. Even though it was clearly upsetting to Atticus.
Jacob was my husband for five years and I’ve done a shit job establishing boundaries and enabling his recovery post-divorce. I see that now.
This is all my fault.
I don’t think—I just get in my car and drive.
It’s late by the time I get to Atticus’s apartment complex. I text him from outside his building’s door.
Me
I’m at your door. Can we talk?
A few seconds later, Atticus buzzes me in and is waiting outside the elevator on his floor. I take in his messyhair sans hat, tight gray t-shirt, loose athletic shorts over thick thighs. Those intense green eyes are locked on me.
“You okay, coach?” he asks. “It’s late.”
“As if I could be anyone’s dating coach.” I moan, then I walk right into his arms, pressing my face against his chest. Atticus wraps himself around me and kisses the top of my head. He feels so good. All the emotions of today rush through my body and settle while I’m in Atticus’s arms. This feels right in every single way.
Even if it’s not.
But tonight, I’m not going to let guilt or what’s right or wrong stop me.
I turn my head up and Atticus is waiting. He places a slow, sweet kiss on my lips and my chest fills with warmth.
“Hey.” He pulls back and looks at me intently. “I’m sorry about before. I was an asshole.”
