After Ever Happy (After 4)

“Okay.” I nod. I sift through my thoughts while he watches me with patient eyes. Where should I begin? This is much harder than simply telling him that I’m moving, but it’s a much better way to communicate the news to him.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think we’ve ever done this. Anytime some big, dramatic thing was happening, we always found out from other sources in that same big, dramatic way.

I glance at him one last time before I begin to speak. I want to take in every inch of his face, remember and study the way his green eyes can appear so patient at times. I notice the way the soft pink of his lips appears so inviting now, but I also remember the times when they were split open on one side, straight down the middle, blood pouring from the gashes from fighting. I remember his piercing there, and how it grew on me so quickly.

I relive the way it felt when the cool metal would brush across my lip. I focus on thinking back to the way he would pull it between his own lips whenever he was deep in thought, and how it just looked so tempting.

I think back to the night when he took me ice-skating in his attempt to prove that he could be a “normal” boyfriend to me. He was nervous and playful and had taken out both of his piercings. He claimed that he did it because he wanted to, but still, to this day, I think he removed them to prove something to himself and to me. I missed them for a while—I still do sometimes—but I sort of loved what their absence represented, no matter how undeniably sexy they looked on him.

“Hardin to Tessa: Care to share?” he teases, and leans up and rests his chin in the palm of one hand.

“Yes.” I smile nervously. “Well, I made the decision because we need time apart, and it seemed like the only way to be sure that actually happens.”

“Time apart, huh? Still?” His eyes set on mine, pressuring me to back down.

“Yes, time apart. Everything is such a mess between us, and I needed to put distance between us—really this time. I know we say that all the time, we do this little song and dance around everything, and we drive back and forth from Seattle to here, and then London got thrown into the mix; we are basically spreading our mess of a relationship across the globe.” I pause for his reaction, and receiving only an indecipherable expression, I finally tear my eyes from his.

“Is it really that much of a mess?” Hardin’s voice is soft.

“We fight more than we get along.”

“That isn’t true.” He tugs at the collar of his black T-shirt. “Technically and literally, that isn’t true, Tess. It may feel that way, but when you think back over all the bullshit we’ve gone through, we’ve spent more time laughing and talking, reading, teasing, and in bed, of course. I mean, I take a long time in bed.” He smiles a small smile, and I can feel my resolve weakening.

“We solve everything with sex, and that’s not healthy,” I say, pushing my next point.

“Sex isn’t healthy?” he scoffs. “We are having consensual sex, full of love and full of fucking trust.” He looks at me with intensity. “Yeah, it also doubles as amazing, mind-blowing fucking sex, but don’t forget why we do it. I don’t fuck you just to get off. I do it because I love you, and I love the trust you place in me when you allow me to touch you in that way.”

Everything he is saying is making sense, despite that it shouldn’t. I agree with him, no matter how cautious I try to be.

I feel New York City slipping farther and farther away, so I decide to drop the bomb sooner rather than later: “Have you ever looked into the signs of an abusive relationship?”

“Abusive?” He sounds as if he’s gasping for air. “You find me abusive? I’ve never laid a hand on you, and I never would!”

I stare down at my hands and press forward with the honesty. “No, that’s not what I meant. I was referring to both of us and the way we do things to purposely hurt each other. I wasn’t accusing you of being physically abusive.”

He sighs and runs both hands over his hair, a sure sign he’s starting to panic. “Okay, so this is obviously much more than some stupid decision to not live with me in Seattle or something.” Then he stops and looks at me with a deathly seriousness. “Tessa, I’m going to ask you something, and I want your real honest answer—no bullshit, no thinking about it. Just say what comes to your mind when I ask, okay?”

I nod, unsure where he is going with this.

“What’s the worst thing I’ve done to you? What’s the most disgusting, terrible thing that I’ve put you through since we met?”

I begin to think through the last eight months, but he clears his throat, reminding me that he wanted me to say the first thing that came to mind.

I fidget in the chair, not wanting to open that vault right now, or anytime in the future, really. But finally I spit it out. “The bet. The fact that you had me completely fooled when I was falling in love with you.”

Hardin appears thoughtful, lost for a moment. “Would you take it back? Would you change that mistake of mine if you could?”

I take my time to think this through, really think this through before answering. I’ve answered this question before, many times, and I’ve changed my mind even more than that, but now the answer feels so . . . final. It feels so final and certain, and it just feels like it matters more now than ever before.

The sun is moving lower in the sky, hiding behind the thick trees lining the Scotts’ property, activating the automatic patio lights.

“No. I wouldn’t take it back,” I say, mostly to myself.