I miss you too. I want things to be the way they were, more than anything. Can we start slow?
I hit send before I could change my mind. Had I really just done that? I wondered what now. If he called, or wanted to meet, could I handle that? Probably not. Eventually, but not yet.
I climbed out of the bed and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Making my way downstairs, I found the kitchen and made myself a fresh coffee. My email was on loud alert, but that didn’t stop me from refreshing it every ten seconds.
I turned on the TV and sank down on the sofa, stretching myself out as I ran over the possible responses from Coop. Hurry up and reply already. My phone began to vibrate. Gingerly, I picked it up. Sure enough, there was a text from Coop.
You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me. As slow as you want, Beth.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Texting is good. I can handle that.
A surge of relief flooded through me. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Fixing things with Coop gave me hope that I might actually be able to move on from that night.
So . . . how are you doing?
I laughed. How was I doing? Things were pretty shitty. But they were better than they had been a couple of weeks ago.
I'm okay. I'm sorry. About everything. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like I did.
He replied right away.
I'm just glad you're talking to me now. Or at least typing to me.
I laughed, setting my phone down. For two months I had pushed him away. He made one mistake; but the only person to blame for what happened that night was Ivan. I was beginning to realize that.
***
Just after lunch, Scarlett came home, her hands filled with shopping. She gave me a friendly smile, but I could see she felt as awkward as I did. I felt obliged to sit in the kitchen and attempt conversation as she unpacked. Which was hard, because I couldn't look at her without remembering her naked with her fingers inside me. And that made me want to cringe.
"So, are you and Roman close?" I asked. Hell, I'll admit it: I was curious to hear her view on their relationship. These things didn't always match up.
She snorted. "I've known him for a few years, but I would barely call us friends." She turned to me. "He's a very private man. He's been through some things, and I think he finds it hard to open up sometimes. But he's a good guy. A good guy who has made some wrong decisions in the past and learned from them."
What did she mean by that? Wrong decisions—that sounded very ominous. I didn't ask any more, I just sat there thinking about all the wrong decisions I'd made in my life. Who was I to judge?
"I better get going," I said. I stood up and grabbed my bag. "It was nice seeing you again."
"You too, Beth. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."
***
"Did you have fun?" he asked me.
I nodded. I always had fun with him.
Since our 'talk' about the rape, he had been super patient and supportive. I always made the first move, and I felt confident that if things went too far, he would stop. That trust meant the world to me. I trusted him like I did no other. Having someone know about what happened was a relief. It was no longer just Ivan and I who knew, and in a weird way, that made me feel stronger—like he had less power over me.
***
I invited him inside. After a coffee, I led him into the bedroom.
Slowly, I began to unbutton his shirt. He gazed down at me, lifting his hands to catch my wrists.
"I'm not sleeping with you, Beth. Not yet. Not until you’re ready."
"What if I am ready?" I pouted.