Not What I Expected

I shook my head. “No. That’s bullshit. I think you want me to be with other people, so you don’t have to worry about me emotionally clinging to you … so you don’t have to carry my baggage.”

Kael winced, and I turned, taking my emotionally-out-of-control self into the house before I said anything else, before I showed him all of my baggage.

Depositing my coat, mittens, and scarf onto the floor like I didn’t give a shit— and I didn’t—I kicked off my boots as the door opened behind me. I closed my eyes. “Go. Save yourself.”

He sighed. “The baggage statement. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“You did. And that’s fine.” I shuffled my socked feet into the kitchen.

Moments later, I felt him at the threshold to the kitchen, eyes on me, but I kept my gaze out the kitchen window, hugging my arms to my waist.

“And I chose nothing,” I said, feeling every ounce of defeat from the previous year. “I chose to not ask you to carry one single bag of mine. I wanted the sex. I got the sex. And it was good. But I can’t stop. I can’t see the line. And maybe some of us just aren’t wired to see that line.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re too good!” I whipped around to face him. “This whole fucking town can’t stop talking about you, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Um … okay. I didn’t ask for anyone to talk about me. I think it’s just a small town, and everyone talks about everything.”

“Well, you don’t have to give them so much to talk about. You don’t have to shovel snow and rake leaves. You don’t have to be Mr. Handyman one day and drive old ladies to visit their daughters the next day. All the changing tires, loading Christmas trees, clearing windshields, and warming up cars … it’s insane. And it’s not fair!” My voice escalated to an outright yell, and he was only ten feet away.

He glowered. “You’re mad because I’m nice?”

I shook my head a half dozen times. “Not nice. You’re lovable.” The word lovable had never sounded so angry … so negative.

“What’s wrong with being lovable?”

After retrieving an apple from the produce drawer in the fridge, I turned toward him again, taking a big bite, hoping it would keep my mind and my emotions from spewing out of control. “I don w-ah of oo,” I mumbled over my huge bite of apple.

He tugged several times on his earlobe while scrunching his face. “Sorry. I didn’t catch any of that.”

I chewed … and chewed. Once I swallowed, my gaze fell to the floor. “I don’t want to love you.”

“Then don’t.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes, I eased my head side to side. “Your world is so black and white. If I could control my feelings that easily, I’d still be married.” I forced myself to look at him. “Instead, he’s dead and I’m here. I said I wanted you to make me feel … feel alive. Not in love.”

Don’t cry … don’t cry …

I continued, “So you need to turn around and walk away because I can’t stop. And I hate feeling so out of control. I hate not being able to love the right man but falling so hard for the wrong one. And I get it … this is Karma. I deserve this. But you don’t. So … please walk away.”

Stiffening, I gripped my apple tighter as he took slow steps toward me. “Go …” I whispered.

“Give it to me.”

“Give what?” I couldn’t look at him. He would make me cry, and I wasn’t just on the verge of tears; I was on the verge of crumbling to the ground.

“Your baggage.”

I shook my head, staring at his jean-clad legs.

He eased the apple from my hand and set it on the counter.

“No …” I croaked past the lump in my throat as unshed tears blurred my vision.

“Yes …” he whispered, standing so close to me without making physical contact.

“Nothing … we chose nothing.”

His index finger hooked mine. “Well, that was the wrong choice.”

“What’s the right choice?” I whispered.

“Everything.”

“You don’t want my everything.”

“Maybe I do.”

My gaze inched up his body to his face. As soon as I found his eyes, I blinked. Tears raced down my cheeks. He didn’t move. We stood facing each other with two fingers clasped.

“You’re so good … but I’m not. I’m selfish. I’m cruel. I’m a killer.”

His forehead tensed.

I closed my eyes hoping to stop the tears, but they wouldn’t quit. “I couldn’t ignore all the little things about him that angered me … annoyed me. I let it build. I suppressed it. And over time, it turned into something so toxic I could barely breathe.” Blinking my eyes open, I let them focus on his chest. “He was just eating breakfast. And he said something he’d said a million times before. But I just … couldn’t. Not that day … not ever again.”