I put a finger under his chin and lift it back up, bringing his eyes to mine, and not caring about the chocolate—rented tux or not. “I don’t want my old life. I don’t want parties and boys and toys. I want you, Skylar. I want us. I want what we have, and I don’t care what it costs to get it.”
He gives me a few seconds of consideration. Then he tilts his head. “Alright, man. Let’s play it your way for a minute. Paint the picture for me, will you? Here’s how it goes: You and I try making this work for a few weeks. We do the long-distance thing. I’m home. You’re here.”
“I don’t see any problems with this,” I insist, my eyes alight and challenging.
Skylar isn’t done. “While working hard at my demanding new job at AppuCore, I somehow find two days of time I can take off, and I spend half of one of those days to travel here. We spend a single night together. One night. And maybe the following morning is filled with a big, sweet, delicious, maple-covered breakfast of our favorite pancakes and eggs. Heaven on a couple plates.”
“Already salivating,” I throw at him.
“Then I leave you. Just that one night is all we have. You return to your bookstore job and your life, and you try to satisfy yourself with a slightly unsatisfying text now and then from me—because let’s face it, my new job will be taking up all my time during the day, and by the late hour I come home, I’ll be totally wiped. What happens when you’re horny and I have nothing left in me to give? Not even a video call?”
“Then … we’ll just have our next weekend to look forward to that much more.”
“And what if my job takes that away, too?”
I open my mouth, then find myself paused, unsure what to say.
“What if it’s two weekends in a row that I have to stay home and work? Three weekends in a row? Can you go a month without seeing me? Without needing physical affection? What if I can only get one day off a month? Just one day. I’d spend the majority of it traveling here and back.”
“We could just …” I’m struggling to find any comeback or decent argument in my favor. Every point he makes crushes my spirit more. “We could just … I mean, we’d …” Frustration fills my chest.
I’m out of things to say.
And Skylar can tell. It’s evident that what he’s saying is deeply affecting me.
I don’t think he wants to hurt me.
But I’m feeling it just the same.
“No one’s to blame, Brett. It’s just life … and bad timing. This isn’t easy for me either.” Skylar tries on a smile. It looks pained. “Just hang on to the good times and the memories, Brett. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll run into each other in another three years, and … time will be on our side, then.”
I’m desperate to say something that will refute all of the points he’s made, but deep in my heart …
I think I know he’s right.
I think he was always right.
Skylar puts a deep, tender, and significant kiss on my cheek, then slowly walks away, leaving me here in the dim kitchen. And for some inexplicable, foolish reason, I let him go, my heart crushed to pieces inside my chest, and my big and heavy eyes following him all the way to the door.
Even the workers in the back of the kitchen remain silent, watching this unfold. Maybe their hearts just broke, too.
[ THE BEST BRO ]
A week has passed since the wedding.
Brett is lying on top of five crates pressed side-to-side in the alleyway behind Bailey’s Bistro & Books, his pink coffee-boy cap lying on his chest over his hot pink apron. He watches the sliver of bright, sunny sky between the two buildings that sandwich him. He counts birds as they fly by overhead, but keeps losing his count. He’s at 4 … for the fifth or so time.
16
The back door to Bailey’s creaks open. A lazy set of gray-blue eyes find me under a messy bush of blonde curls. It’s my adoring boss Bethany. “Are you trying to get fired, Brett?”
“Not specifically.” I spot another bird fly over the alleyway, a pigeon. “Five,” I count.
Bethany sighs, lights up a cigarette, then leans against the opened door as she smokes. “Is this … some kinda ‘boy problems’ thing …?”
“Nope. Six.” I think it was another pigeon. “I’m completely free of boy problems. No more boys to have problems with at all. I’m boy-liberated.”
“That Sky guy who was in town. Is he gone?”
Seven and eight, a pair. “Gone.”
“Thought you were way into him or some shit. At least that’s what Quinton said.” She takes a puff and blows it out with a sigh.