“I really need to get going.” I want to tell him that I’ll miss him too, because I will… but I’m barely holding on to my emotions as it is. This is crazy, too fast and too much.
“I know. Please be safe and check in as you go.” He kisses the top of my head.
“Will do. Thank you for an amazing weekend.”
He chuckles. “You gave me the best birthday I’ve had, ever. Thank you for driving all that way for me. I’m so glad I got to spend time with you, hold you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Selfishly, it was for me too. I was missing you.” My voice cracks as the confession that I was trying to hold in slips past my lips.
His arms tighten around me. “Be safe, James.”
“Will do.”
When I pull away from his embrace, he captures my face in his hands and kisses me. I kiss him back with all the desperation I have rumbling around inside of me. This connection we have is intense, and it breaks my heart to know our worlds are so far apart.
“Go,” he says between soft kisses. “Before I drag you back to my place and refuse to ever let you leave.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. It does. I want to stay here with him, but my life is in Chicago. I’m torn in two, and the pain of our reality is too much.
“Bye, Michael. Happy birthday.”
“Bye, beautiful James.”
I force myself to pull away and climb into the driver seat. Gripping the steering wheel, I glance in the rearview mirror. He’s watching me, hands clasped behind his head, his eyes straight ahead. I fight the urge to put the car in Reverse and go back to him. With one final look, I pull out of the drive and head toward home.
I stand in the middle of the driveway until I can no longer see her. Once her car disappears, I make my way to the front porch and settle on the swing, not ready to go back inside. I just need a minute to dissect this feeling, the heaviness in my chest. It’s an ache so strong, I fight the urge to call her and beg her to come back. I know I can’t do that—her life is there and mine’s here—but what about the life we could build together? Where does that leave us?
“You okay?” Mom asks, taking a seat next to me on the swing.
“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly.
“You really like this one.”
“I do.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do? She lives there, I live here. We both have responsibilities, plus she has her family and I have you all. I don’t see how it could work.”
“With that attitude, it won’t.”
I turn to look at her.
“Don’t give me that look. What does your heart tell you, Michael?”
I rub my hand over my chest. “I don’t know.”
“Then you’re not ready to make it work.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means your heart will guide you. If you’re not ready to listen to it, then you’re not ready for whatever it is you think you want with that girl.”
“I want her.”
“Is that what your heart says?”
“Momma, come on. We’ve hung out a handful of times.”