"Why not?" Another deep breath. An easy way out of this would be to say that something had come up, but I didn't want to say that to him. He deserved the truth.
"I just can't-" I stopped, finding the right words. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to do that again." He sighed.
"I know it's going to take time for us to get to a place where you trust me again, but, babe, we won't get there at all if we aren't spending time together." His voice was really kind, and I knew what he was saying was right. That didn't change that I was still freaking out.
"I know that, Roman. That's a lot easier said than done."
"Have we been moving too fast?" he asked. We had already slept together again. I shook my head remembering how amazing it had felt, then the rush of uncertainty and fear that had come right after.
"It's not that. I just don't want to do it, okay?"
"No, Ron. That's not okay. Is this about what I said to you yesterday?" he asked. Yes, that with the fact that you dumped me the last time things got tricky. I didn't need him to always choose me. I just needed to know that I was important enough for him to at least consider me in the decision.
"It's more than just that, Roman," I sighed.
"Then let me see you so we can talk about it." I shut my eyes. No, Roman. Just no. I don't know if I can trust you not to do what you did to me, and I don't want to risk it.
"No, Roman," I said quietly.
"Ron, please. Whatever it is, we can't run from it. I can't take no for an answer."
I was quiet, wondering why the hell I had thought it was a good idea to try to fight him on this. I knew what I felt, but what he did was still sort of in the dark for me. He had said he didn't want me to regret trusting him, but didn't he realize the risk I'd have to take getting there in the first place?
"Seven thirty, I'll be at your door," he went on since I hadn't said anything back. "I'm not fucking up again, Ron. I said I would talk to you and we'd figure it out. That's what we're going to do."
He was being remarkably patient with me, even if he wasn't giving me what I wanted. I didn't like the feeling of giving myself over to him again, putting my trust in the fact that he wouldn't hurt me. I didn't like it, but I missed it at the same time. I hadn't been able to feel safe being vulnerable with another guy since, not in this way.
"Fine," I said weakly.
"Thank you, babe," he said. "You won't regret this."
I already did. I looked at the phone until the backlight went out. At least this time, I'd be ready.
Chapter Twenty One
Roman
I looked over at the flowers in the passenger seat next to me. It had seemed like a good idea picking them up, but now, sitting outside her building, I had to wonder whether it looked like I was trying to buy her with them.
The truth was I was ready to do anything to get her back, but at the same time, I had to be honest with myself that she wasn't. I felt like we wanted the same thing when we were together. All I wanted was to stay that way, and I'd put money on her wanting that, too. There was something there, though, something
standing in our way.
Me. I was what it was. Not really me, but what I did. It just became me by extension because now, Ron thought the way to make sure she never got hurt again was to avoid me. It made sense. It was the normal, rational conclusion anyone would come to after being through what she had. But right now, I needed her to stop listening to her heart and just... Fuck, just listen to me.
Listen to whatever she had inside her that meant we could still go on dates, talk, and have sex, and she could be comfortable doing it. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle with her, and I got it. Giving up just would have been easier. Not what I wanted, not satisfactory, or smart, or even what I needed to do. Just easier.
Well, this is what the fuck happens when you break something. You put it the fuck back together again, I thought, heading up to her place. I knocked and waited for her, the flowers were in my hand, hanging at my side. I wished I hadn't gotten them; they weren't going to fix this.
The door opened and there she was. The first thing I noticed was her hair. It wasn't straight this time. Soft, bouncy curls tumbling down her shoulders, the way I liked it. Her dress was simpler, white fabric coming down to just over her knees. She crossed her arms looking at me.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hey. You look good," I said coming in. I cupped her face and kissed her. She didn't pull back or turn away, but her body language was reserved. I had seen this coming. She thanked me and invited me in. I gave her the flowers, getting a small smile out of her, but that was it before she disappeared into the kitchen to put them in a vase. I stood in her living room waiting for her to come back.
"Are you ready?" I asked her when she was out again. She moved the vase inches left, then right, then left again over and over till she was satisfied with its spot on the table.
"Yeah. Let me just grab my purse," she said. Would some enthusiasm kill her? I thought darkly. After that phone call yesterday, this was going to be hard. I knew where she stood now and it wasn't where I wanted her to be. It was my fault that she wasn't, but that didn't change that it was true. I didn't want her to be scared and uncertain when it came to me. I wanted her to feel like she could rely on me.