The more I ponder this over, the more I question if I am overthinking the whole situation. Am I the only one focused on the fact I kissed Micah? Am I the only paranoid one reading too much into the moment? Probably. And also not surprising.
I stop stacking the creamers to look up at Reese, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. His eyes bright as they stare back, as if he knows something I don’t. Feel free to share with the class, Mr. Triggs.
“I told Micah I wanted to be friends again. Give things between us time, then go from there.”
“Okay,” he drawls out the word.
“I told him this two nights ago. And then I kissed him. More than once.” I drop my head in my hands and groan. “Wasn’t hot and heavy. But still…”
“Hey.” Reese reaches across the table and jostles my arm. “Look at me.” This feels like a parenting moment, one of those annoying times you get told what you did right and wrong. I don’t want to look up, but I do. Reese lays his hand on the table, palm up, and I place mine on top. The warmth and slight curl of our fingers is a comfort I have only ever gotten from Reese. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can’t help what you feel.”
“Ugh. This sucks.” He squeezes my hand. “I need things to slow down. Me kissing him counteracts the whole purpose.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you need things to slow down?”
My brows pinch at the middle as my head jerks back. “Are you serious?” Reese nods with the most somber expression on his face. “Did you forget what happened two weeks ago?”
“No. But I don’t think Micah should be punished for something out of his hands and which may be false. Without proof, it’s all hearsay.”
Since when did my friend jump off the Peyton wagon and on the Micah train? Not cool.
“So, I’m supposed to forget it ever happened? Act as if his world is hunky dory and may not flip upside down in months? Seems idiotic, if you ask me.”
Reese shifts his gaze out the window and loses focus. A few breaths pass and he gives my hand a light squeeze as his eyes drift back across the table. “What if all this stress you’re taking on is for nothing? What if the woman isn’t pregnant? And if she is, what if it isn’t his? Then you put yourself through all this for nothing.”
Does he not think I have considered this? God, I have thought over every possible scenario. Problem is, I have no clue which way to go or how to feel until the truth comes to light. I want to believe this outcome—that Micah has nothing to do with this woman’s pregnancy. But I should also be mentally prepared for the possibility of it becoming a reality. And I need Reese to see both sides of the coin.
“What if she is and it is his? If I don’t prepare myself for that, how will I cope? How will I know if I can have a relationship—in any capacity—with him? If I don’t consider the possibilities of what our future may look like, how will I know?”
“Sunshine…” He sandwiches my hand between both of his as the most endearing expression touches his face. “There’s no way to know what the future holds. But you impact it.” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “If you constantly focus on the potential negative outcome, that’s all you’ll see and think.” I open my mouth to rebut and he holds a hand up. “I’m not saying to discount the possibility. What I am saying is you shouldn’t focus all your energy on the bad. If you like him, really like him, do what feels right for you. If that means time apart, so be it. But if it means time together, don’t second-guess it.” He leans down and kisses my hand. “Life is too short to miss out on the good. You of all people should understand this.”
This is why I love and hate conversations with Reese. He tells me like it is and doesn’t sugarcoat a damn word. And that last part… god, that hits home. Hard.
Far too often, I questioned if I’d ever find and hold on to love. Whether familial or romantic. Because the universe has thrown a lot of shitty cards for my hand. And it’s difficult to believe anything else.
Reese releases my hand, sits back in his seat, and gives me time to process. To mull over what it is I want with Micah. To decide what steps I should take next. A decision only I can make.
Before I get too deep in thought, the server steps up to the table and delivers plate after plate. I unwrap my silverware, lean over my plate and inhale, and sag at the hearty scent of sausage gravy and fresh biscuits. Forks clink the ceramic plates as we eat in companionable silence. The entire time, I dissect everything Reese said. Take it apart, one word at a time, then restring it together to see if it makes better sense.
As his words cycle through my head for the hundredth, two questions pop up. Questions I need answers to, but fear what they will be.
Am I wrong to keep Micah at a distance? Or am I sheltering my heart so I don’t lose someone else? Sadly, only I have the answers. If only I knew where they were hidden.