Page 56 of Ms. Lead

“I think we should end things here rather than trying to carry on once I leave and things petering out slowly and painfully. That way, if it becomes unbearable to be apart, we’ll know we must act.” I’ve considered this more than I should, and this is the only way that makes sense.

She sits up and faces me, her face half in shadows from the fire, so I can’t read her expression.

“That’s kind of a reverse way to do things.”

I nod. “It is. But that’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?” I smile a little bit, trying to lighten this heavy emotion pushing down on us.

Her brow furrows as she considers my proposal.

“How would it work? How much time do we wait to see if we need to act? What if we can’t wait?”

These are all excellent questions, and at this point, I’m making it up as I go.

“Six months. We go back to living our regular lives again. We give it six months without any contact. No emails, no texts, no phone calls. And if it’s ultimately going to work between us, six months will be nothing in the long run. Right?”

Her sad eyes study me closely. Surely six months will be enough for her to move on and forget me. She’ll realize how horrible the idea of a relationship with me is and thank her lucky stars that we did things this way. She’ll be unburdened by and unobligated to me in any way, shape, or form, able to have a normal and happy life with someone else.

The thought of Bianca with somebody else almost makes me take it all back, but what would I expect? She’s too special to go long without someone discovering that like I have. I swallow hard, pushing down my instinct to fight for her.

“But…” she whispers, lowering her head and staring at our entwined fingers.

“But, what?”

She hesitates, then meets my eyes, the pain behind them now bare to me, though she’s withholding her tears bravely.

“The thing is, I love you, Oliver.”

I shut my eyes and breathe in sharply.

No. No. No.

“Don’t. Bianca. Don’t do this.”

My heart is kicking me in the head, telling me to say it back to her because it’s true, isn’t it? I do love her as well? Then why not fucking tell her that? Because there are too many damned reasons to list, not to mention the worst of them, that I don’t deserve her.

She pulls her hands out of mine and frames my face with them.

“Look at me, Oliver, and tell me you don’t feel the same because I know you do.” The pleading in her voice will haunt me for the rest of my life.

My god, this is fucking killing me.

I return the action and grab her face, her soft skin warm and dry, but those unshed tears she was holding back now threaten.

“Love has nothing to do with this. Whether or not you or I love each other isn’t the main issue between us, and you know it. There are fundamental differences between us, Bianca.” She breathes in as if to argue, but I put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “Just because you think you don’t need everything on your life’s wish list, and to be honest, maybe you don’t, that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have them. You do deserve them. All of them. Every single thing your heart desires should be yours. And I can’t be the one to give those to you.”

That does it. The tears fall, streaking her cheeks, catching and reflecting the dying firelight. Each one that falls fills me with disdain and drowns me in self-hatred.

This is cruel. And I know it. I can see what it’s doing to her. It’s breaking her heart. I know this is the right thing to do, though. It has to be.

I meant every word I said. She does deserve so much better than me. She should have a full life, with as many children as she wants and as little worry as possible. I need to believe that she’ll find that, even though I die inside at the thought.

She inhales a little sniffle and takes a deep breath, looking up at the night sky.

“Okay, six months, let’s see. This is August, so September, October…” Her voice trails off as she counts the months in her head and on her fingers.

It’s adorable and heartbreaking at the same time. I just want to pull her to me and never let go. Fuck counting months or hours. I could stay here. With her.

I turn my eyes to the sky, too, wishing for inner strength to do the right thing. To leave her be and let her have the life she really wants.

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