Page 60 of Dear Roomie
Chapter 22
James
“Receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
A chorus of “amen” echoes from around the table as Mr. Nicholson finishes blessing the food and everyone starts to dig in. The spread is immaculate, like something straight out of a magazine. Tanner’s mom would vehemently deny it if asked, but she’s outsourced the meal every year since his dad was elected commissioner.
The low hum of conversation picks up around the scraping of silverware against China. I push the food around on my plate, barely eating it. Like every year, the food is delicious, but I have no appetite today. How could I when Iknow Morgan is completely alone back home? Well, not completely alone. I left Grover with him to keep him company. I told him that Grover hates long trips and made it seem like he was doing me a favor, but in reality, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving my roommate alone.
The twins, who I’m sandwiched between, don’t share any of my reservations. Their plates are piled high with more mashed potatoes and rolls than they can possibly eat in one sitting. They chatter back and forth to each other with childish exuberance. The rest of the table is locked in a discussion about Mr. Nicholson’s campaign, which is about as interesting as watching paint dry.
An errant foot brushes up against mine, but I ignore it; between the Nicholsons and the Harrises, the ten-seat table is stuffed to its maximum capacity, and legroom is scarce. The second brush, though, catches my attention. The invading touch moves up my calf in a slow caress, and I fight to hold back a grimace. Across the table, Tanner gives me one of his rare carefree smiles, one that is a little too gummy and squeezes his eyes into wrinkled lines. It’s the smile that normally makes my insides melt, but I feel nothing, not even a tiny spark of heat.
I force myself to smile, contorting my face into a hollow reflection of his shining adoration. It’s nothing more than an echo of what used to be—an artificial replica of former feelings.
The room starts to spin around me as I’m blindsided by a moment of perfect clarity.
I’m not in love with Tanner anymore, and I don’t think I have been for a while.
The drug use, his outburst at the fundraiser, the violence he displayed at the beach: those are only the vibrant blooms that grow among the tangled hedges, drawing attention to what’s gone wrong. The roots of it all go much deeper. My resentment is anchored in the soil in a gnarled, twisted mass that can’t be removed without killing the plant.
I drop my gaze to the table, unable to bear the weight of his stare. My heart shatters, splitting into a million tiny shards that rip me to shreds. I can’t breathe, not with my lungs in ribbons.
“May I be excused?” I don’t wait for a response as I push away from the table.
Tanner tilts his head as a crease forms between his brows, and that carefree smile slips from his face. He starts to get up to follow me, but I stop him with a shake of my head.
Restroom, I mouth with my best attempt at a reassuring smile.
His lips curl down into a frown, but he lets me leave and settles back in his chair to resume his conversation with Owen.
My chin is held high and my breaths are shallow but controlled bursts as I flee, but the second I’m out of sight, I collapse in on myself as a sob racks through my body. The path to Tanner’s bedroom is familiar, and my tears fall in earnest as I cross the threshold into the place that holds so many memories. I don’t know why I thought coming here would be a good idea. It’s an unsullied artifact from better days, a time capsule holding the mementos from when things were good and we were happy. So much happened in this room over the years, so many firsts took place here. It’s only fitting that my heart breaks for the first time here too.
Sinking to the floor, I’m overwhelmed by the barrage of emotions. My aching heart beats with such force, I think it’s going to burst. I can’t catch my breath around each choking sob, and my vision starts to swim.
I need Morgan.
My phone is like a lead weight in my palm. It would be so easy to call him; with the push of one button, I could have the comfort of his voice in my ear. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I called, he would answer, and that he would talk me through this without any complaints, but that isn’t fair to him. This holiday is already hard for him. What kind of person would I be to add to his troubles?
A shitty one—one who isn’t worthy of the unconditional support he’s shown me time and time again.
So I don’t call him, no matter how much my heart begs me to, focusing instead on the times he’s helped me through this before. I hear his voice in my head setting the rhythm for my breaths, feel the ghost of his touch grounding me, and search for that sense of serenity that I find when I’m in his arms.
The well of tears runs dry and my heart rate slows along with my breathing. The pain in my chest is still present, but it’s a duller ache, eclipsed by growing guilt.
I’m going to have to break Tanner’s heart. There’s no way to avoid it.
The idea of hurting him is worse than my own heartbreak. Despite his flaws and how things have been between us lately, I’ve loved him for half of my life—I still do, but not in the way that matters, not anymore.
Dragging this out any longer than I have to would be cruel to both of us. I just have no idea how I’m actually going to do it. There is no way I can break up with him today—not on a holiday, not with his whole family around.
Stifling my sniffles, I pull myself off the floor and try to clean myself up. My face is a swollen, splotchy mess, but I do what I can to hide the evidence of my breakdown and head back into the hallway.
Boisterous chatter floats up over the banister from below, bringing with it a festive aura that clashes against my looming melancholy. From the sound of things, the gathering has migrated from the dining area to the living room, transitioning from dinner to the traditional post-feast drinks.
A flash of movement catches my eye from across the hall. I adjust my course, tiptoeing toward the twins’ bedroom. No one else should be up here. Mrs. Nicholson would tan the hides of any of her children if they disrespected their guests by sneaking off on their own. Heaven knows that, growing up, Tanner and I were on the receiving end of her punishment more than I care to remember. She must be going soft, though, because Raelyn is sitting on the floor, playing with her dolls without a care in the world.
I tap my knuckle against the open door to catch her attention. “What are you doing up here, Rae?”
