Page 100 of Fake As Puck
“I didn’t think about that,” she says quietly.
“Yeah. So. You know. Options.”
I stare at the TV screen, watching the chef explain the importance of properly seasoning pasta water, and I realize that this moment with her in my arms, wearing my shirt, comfortable and warm and real might not happen again.
Not like this.
Not without the complication of money and travel and real life coming from every angle.
So I pull her tighter and kiss the top of her head and try to memorize the way she feels against me.
Just in case.
I want to tell her what I’m thinking. Want to say that I’m terrified she’s going to leave and realize that whatever this is between us isn’t worth the complication. Want to ask her to stay not because I’m paying her, but because I can’t imagine going back to living in this house without her in it.
Instead, I say, “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”
“It has.”
“It was a good weekend, though.”
“Yeah. Really good.”
But there’s something careful in her voice now. Something that wasn’t there an hour ago.
Something that tells me she’s already planning her exit strategy.
“Liv?”
“Mmm?”
“When you go back to LA, are you... are we still...?”
“Still what?”
“I don’t know. In touch? Friends? Something?”
She’s quiet for so long I start to panic.
“Of course we’ll stay in touch,” she says finally. “We’re going to see each other in a month.”
“Right. The wedding. And after that?”
“I don’t know, West. I guess we’ll figure it out as we go.”
“Yeah. As we go.” My heart races. Is this what a red flag is? Are there red flags in my vision right now? Holy shit, there is.
The episode ends, and another one starts, and we sit here watching it in silence.
But it’s not comfortable silence anymore. It’s the kind of silence that’s full of things we’re not saying. Questions we’re not asking. Feelings we’re not admitting.
And I realize that somewhere between the night of our kiss and right now, we’ve gone from thick tension to being strangers again.
Because she’s right. This is complicated.
And maybe complicated isn’t something we know how to handle.
Maybe we were better at pretend than we are at real.
