“I can tell you I definitely don’t want to live that way. I want to live here, with my father, my business, my roots. I don’t want a long-distance relationship. I have no interest. Zero.” I pick up a magazine and roll it in my hands. “But I know you have to go with your brother.”
“I don’t have to do jack shit.”
“But you will. Because that’s who you are. Because that’s the man I adore.”
He leans back against the cushions and puts his hands on his face. “Why do I feel like you’ve just shoved a mile away from me?”
When I don’t answer, he finally looks at me. There’s fear etched on his face. I see it, too, when he forces a swallow.
“Ellie, baby, don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I promise. “I just . . . I’m between a rock and a hard place here.”
“Why do you think that? I don’t get it.”
“If I give in to you and just go with the flow, follow my heart . . .”
“You don’t trust me.” It’s more of a question than a statement, a phrase uttered with disbelief. “You don’t, don’t you?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just . . . what happens if in a year from now, I’m sitting here alone with a baby and you’re off God knows where doing God knows what? Then what, Ford? Do you think that’s the life I want?”
His jaw hangs open as he exhales, narrowing his eyes like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. I just sit on the stone fireplace and watch him.
“You know it’s not. After all, isn’t that one of the reasons you claim to have left me the first time? You wanted the freedom to do things and felt like it wasn’t fair to make me wait on you or follow you around?”
He runs a hand through his hair, tugging briefly before letting go. “For fuck’s sake, Ellie. What do I have to do?”
“I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just saying that until we figure out where our paths are going, maybe we shouldn’t be getting too involved.”
He springs off the couch, his body vibrating with irritation. “We shouldn’t be getting too involved? You really just fucking said that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You know what? I don’t. I don’t get a word of this bullshit.”
“Think about it,” I say, standing up so I don’t feel so vulnerable. “Taking a step back gives us some breathing room.”
He’s across the room and inches from me before I can take any precautions otherwise. His chest rises and falls so hard, I think it’s going to slam into mine.
“What if I don’t want breathing room?” he asks.
“I do.”
He nods, a look of skepticism on his face. “Tell you what—you can have some breathing room if that’s what you want.”
Even though it’s what I said I wanted, my heart crashes anyway. He’s still standing in front of me, and I could call this off with one little word, yet I already miss him. I already ache for him. I already crave him and feel the void he’s instantly carved in my life.
Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. This is what I wanted. I have to remind myself.
That’s easier said than done when I see the emotions he’s wearing on his shirtsleeve.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he warns me. “This doesn’t change how I feel or what I want.”
I can’t blink fast enough. A solitary tear trickles down my cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes shining with emotion. “I love the hell out of you.”
My words barely come out over the lump in my throat. “I love you too.”