Battle

“I can’t marry you,” I blurt, surprising myself. His sun-bleached blond eyelashes flutter as he blinks rapidly. He’s as shocked as I am, and for the first time in our relationship, Wyatt stares at me, speechless. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“But I apologized and you already said yes.” It’s the first time I’ve heard Wyatt whine, or is it? It doesn’t matter. I will stand my ground.

I throw my hands up in frustration as all of the anger I’ve felt for years pours out of me. “You’ve apologized before. Sorry is merely a word. Anyone can say it. Anyone can feel it, but it takes more than saying the word to actually mean it.”

“I said I would make it up to you.”

He clearly doesn’t see how much pain he’s caused me. How I’ve been miserably waiting for him to want me. My emotions surge beyond hurt and anger and into full blown rage.

“Somethin’ else you’ve said before. Do you see the pattern here? I need you to show me I come first, that I mean more than your career, or your friends.”

“I will. I promise.”

I sigh and take his hand, trying to ease my anger. “I hope you do, but I can’t take you back until I feel it, and I definitely can’t marry you.”

A huge wave of relief washes over me. I’ve never felt so resolute or more confident about any decision in my entire life. My days of pretending for the sole purpose of making others happy are behind me.

“Wait! What do you mean you can’t take me back?”

“I guess I need a break this time.”

I couldn’t resist the dig, an opportunity to use his words against him—make him feel the stab of rejection for once.

“But I’m still leaving for Chicago. I need to know you’ll be here when I get back.”

His response is typical Wyatt. Our relationship has always been about what he needs. “I’m not leaving town. When you come home, maybe we can start over.”

He looks disappointed, but I refuse to promise him anything. My life is on a new course. I have no idea where it’s taking me or if Wyatt will be joining me for the ride.

“Can I call you?” he asks.

“Of course,” I smile.

I expect him to continue the argument, but he turns with a sad expression, leaving me to stew in my decision. He doesn’t believe I’m committed to moving on if he can’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated. He doesn’t understand there’s nothing left for me to ponder, not even his feelings. He will understand soon how serious I am. My mind is made up.

I dig around inside my purse for my phone to see if I missed any other calls.

When I pick up my phone, I see a text that makes my heart explode. I don’t recognize the number, but only one person would text me the words:

B: I want more.

Baby blues that melt hearts flash in my mind. I wish he meant more in the way I want him to. Matters of the heart are immaterial when my brain knows with certainty that Battle McCoy has nothing meaningful to offer me. I have no intention of exchanging one complicated relationship for another.

Somehow in twenty-four short hours, I’ve become an entirely new person. A stronger person, and while I may be altering my plans for the future, I know I’m doing the right thing. I won’t allow Wyatt or Battle, or any other man, to treat me as though I’m irrelevant. Love will only flourish between two people when they would give their last breath to make the other happy and without fear of dying.

Battle may have been wrong about me—I am a hopeless romantic. I want an epic kind of love story. Battle doesn’t want love at all. With certainty, I answer his text.

F: You will never love me. More simply means sex, and you were right before, I deserve better.

I hold the phone to my chest, willing him not to reply, not to test my new and fragile resolve. I’m afraid it will crumble as easily as a sandcastle under the weight of a rising tide.

Minutes pass before I accept he’s not responding, and I exhale in relief.

I recall what Wyatt said, considering briefly if I was too hard on him. No … Absolutely not. I’ve fallen victim to his games too many times.

Words are merely vessels delivering empty promises. Actions offer the only reassurance a heart can rely on. He has to prove himself, as do I. Until I steer my own ship through the murky waters of life¸ I will not marry Wyatt or carry on a fling with Battle. Despite what my father says, it’s time to weather the uncertainty of my future without a map, batten down the hatches, and navigate my own course, no matter how rough the seas might be.

When it comes to love, you can’t plan for it. Strategizing will not make Wyatt a good husband any more than it will make Battle let love into his heart. I deserve more. I’ll be okay. I find comfort in Grammy’s words echoing in my mind. “Life has a way of working out exactly as it’s supposed to.”