Shana’s expression smooths. “I never meant to hurt you like that, honest. Try to understand that I left so I wouldn’t hurt you any more than I already had. But the way I did it was selfish. I got scared and ran when I should’ve talked to you. I’m not like that anymore.”
I stand up, push my bottle across the bar, and leave a few bills for Buck. “Then we understand each other. You’re not the same. Neither am I. We are not the same.”
I walk to the exit, in desperate need of a cigarette. Her boots click against the wood floor as she follows me. “That can be a good thing,” she says. “We both had to grow up.”
I push out into the mild night and stop. I don’t have an
y cigarettes. When I turn, Shana’s there, holding one out for me.
Reluctantly, I take it from her. “You don’t even know if you want this,” I say. “You’re bored, so you’re creating drama.”
“If I wanted drama, I would’ve done this tomorrow at Bell’s party,” she says. “I would’ve made a scene. That’s not what I want. I’m trying to be better.”
“This is you not making a scene?” I ask, exhaling smoke, looking down my nose at her. It doesn’t shock me one bit that she knows about Bell’s party.
“Yes. I still love you.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Andrew, stop it. Stop being a jerk.”
“What do you want me to say, Shana? Give me one fucking word I can say to you.”
“Do you really, honestly not love me anymore?”
I understand why she finds that so appalling. I didn’t even know, until tonight, that I’m no longer in love with her. It wouldn’t matter if I were. It’d never be enough for me to let her back into our lives in any meaningful way. “I promised myself I’d never fall in love again after you left.”
“And I’m sorry I hurt you that badly, but in a way, I’m not. I don’t want anyone else to have you. I guess I’m still a little selfish. I want you for myself.”
“You had me. You left.”
She fists her hands, and finally, her façade drops. I see it happen, because I can read her just as well now as I could then. “You act like you were a fucking saint, Andrew. You weren’t. Do you think I just up and left for no reason?”
I work my jaw side to side. For so long, I’ve placed all the blame on her shoulders so I wouldn’t have to face the truth. “Why’d you go?” I ask, but I know why. I always have.
“There’s no one magic answer,” she says. “I didn’t want to be a mom. I told you that so many fucking times, and you told me I’d change my mind when the baby came. You said if I didn’t want to get pregnant, I should’ve been more careful. What about you?” She points a finger at my chest. “You had nothing to do with it?”
My heart thumps. I pushed her into motherhood, then expected her to love it because that was how normal people felt. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time. It took time and distance for me to understand it might’ve been hard for her day in and day out caring for a baby she didn’t want.
“And after I had Bell, you gave me no support. Everything was about her. Everything. When I cried or complained, you couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t want that perfect little angel of a girl. You made me feel like some kind of monster.”
I take a drag. She’s trembling, her eyes full of tears. That first year or so after she left, I wanted nothing more than to have her in front of me, begging for a second chance, but now, it doesn’t give me any satisfaction. Instead, I feel guilty and sad for what we’ve been through. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend to you.”
“You were in a lot of ways,” she says. “Except where Bell was concerned. She could do no wrong, and how was I supposed to compete with that?”
“I just—” I put my hand over my chest. “She’s my heart, Shana. She is everything.”
“She can’t be, Andrew. Do you know what it’ll do to her to grow up seeing you sacrifice everything for her? Does it send a good example that you’re giving up love, happiness, family?”
She says love, happiness, family with some timidity because she’s referring to herself. I don’t associate her with any of those words, though. Amelia’s the one I see. She’s the one I’ve given up, not Shana. Amelia has the potential to give me love, happiness, family—and with those, the potential to hurt me. “I’m scared,” I admit. Amelia knows I am. She didn’t disappear like Shana, but by believing she did, I had an excuse to push her away. “I’m scared to love her.”
“I don’t need you to love me,” Shana says, misunderstanding me. “Not right away. I just want my family back.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“It means . . .” She takes a tentative step closer. “If you can’t love anyone, then can’t you not love me? I’ll come home and be a good mother to Bell. A good wife to you.”
She gauges my reaction, but I can barely think straight, much less form an opinion on what she’s suggesting. A pit is growing in my stomach. Amelia’s at her apartment, waiting for me. Hoping. Except that it’s getting late. Maybe she’s given up on me already. I’ve let her down by not showing up, and knowing Amelia’s history, I may not get another chance.
“Think about it,” Shana says. “If you really don’t love me anymore, then there’s no risk. We’ll be a family, and we’ll make it work, and maybe one day when I’ve proven myself, you’ll let me in again.”
Against my will, Shana paints me a vivid picture that differs greatly from what Amelia and I could be. No risk. A safe home, where I love a woman as much as I’m capable of, but not as much as I should. And she’s okay with it. She doesn’t ask for more. If she leaves again, it won’t hurt.
I think about the last month with Amelia. For the first time in a long time, I was excited about something other than Bell. Excited to see Amelia, to learn about her, to get overcome by intimacy I fought against. I don’t regret getting close to her.
It hits me—I don’t regret my time with Shana, either. It gave me Bell. It gave me hindsight—about the kind of partner I was, and the ways I fucked it up. I’m a better man for having loved her. I’m a father because of her. The pain she caused me is nothing compared to the joy she brought into my life. And there might be more happiness out there if I push past my fear and go get my woman.
Shana, of all people, has opened my eyes. But about one thing, she’s wrong—she and I weren’t made for each other. And I don’t love her anymore.
“I can’t,” I tell her.
“Because you’re afraid?” she asks. “How would you feel if Bell never tried anything because she learned not to from your fear?”
“It would kill me,” I admit. I can’t pass that onto Bell. I need to man up and face what scares me. “But I’m not saying no because I’m afraid. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if you’d stayed, but I don’t think so. I think eventually, we would’ve realized that this,” I motion between us, “was real, but it wasn’t right.”
“How can you say that?” she asks. “It was incredible. Not all the time, but . . .”
“It was good.” I nod. “But when it got hard, we failed. That isn’t the kind of relationship I want. Running away when things get difficult is not the example I want to set for our daughter.”
“So you’re just going to be alone forever?” She crosses her arms, frustrated.
“No.” Amelia and I were fools to think we knew better than the rest of the world. That we could willfully resist love.
I stamp out my cigarette and head back into the bar to tell Pico I’m borrowing his bike.
I need to get to the city fast—before Amelia loses all faith in me.
TWENTY-NINE
AMELIA
The bath I prepared earlier looks pathetic, the bubbles having fizzed and melted over an hour ago. I feel too pathetic to get in alone. I yank out the plug. The drain gurgles and sucks as I put on my robe and head into the kitchen. I put away the twenty-five-year-old bottle of premium Glenlivet I spent way too much money on during my walk home from the baby shower.
It’s past eleven. Four hours since I dressed in a silky, red La Perla negligée. Two hours since I drew a bath, hoping Andrew and I could sink right in, no bullshit, and get things figured out.
Well, I figured it out, but apparently too late. I want him. I know the price, and I’m willing to pay it. Even though it means putting my heart on the line again, that I might end up worse off, I can’t stop wondering what it’s like at that kitchen table with Bell. How it would be to crawl into Andrew’s bed each night. I’ve glimpsed a different kind of life, and while it was exciting at first, now it feels like a sickness—I won’t ever be able to rid m
y mind of that happy picture that was within my grasp.
I get the Glenlivet back out. Might as well indulge—there’s nobody to save it for. Maybe someone exists out there for me. Andrew’s shown me I could be capable of love again. But the thought that that someone isn’t Andrew makes my throat thick. That someone won’t pry me open with bubble baths and good liquor. He won’t force me to see that my pettiness over the divorce hurts me more than it helps me. He won’t have Bell. I can’t believe a month ago, I thought work was the most important thing in the world.
There’s a knock at the door, jarring me from my thoughts. My heart, which was firmly planted in my stomach, soars. It can’t be him. I’m not that lucky.
But it has to be.
My legs wobble as I leave the kitchen—fear, excitement, and adrenaline rushes through me. I can’t even wrap my head around what this means.
Andrew came for me.
Despite all the promises we made each other to keep love out of it, he’s here. It’s more than a bath and a drink. More than sex. He wants to make this work as much as I do.
This is real.
“It’s open,” I call. I want his arms around me. After floating in uncertainty for a week, I need to be grounded by him. The door opens, and I stop to untie my robe. My skin flushes as I anticipate his hands on me, the look on his face when he sees me in red.
When Reggie walks through the door, I’m confused. Disoriented. I clutch my robe instinctively, tying the sash. In that same second, he locks the door. “Bonjour, muffie,” he says as he walks toward me.
The hope and excitement I’d felt over getting Andrew back dissolves. Reggie’s in front of me in an instant, looking me over with bloodshot eyes, grinning so hard he’s sneering.
“Why so tense?” he asks when I retreat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The disappointment that Andrew isn’t coming is as crushing the second time as it was moments ago. It’s as heartbreaking as my irritation with Reggie is pervasive. “What are you doing here?”