Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(73)

“I’d go back, too.” I smile softly. “I really like him, Jonathan.” He frowns slightly at this. “No, not like that. And I…I don’t think I ever really did. Honestly, I think projecting all my affections onto him felt safer than acknowledging whatever was going on with Matthew.” Jonathan nods assuredly, like this is something he knew all along. “I meant that I like him for you. He’s smart, funny, kind, and so, so cute.”

Finn really is all those things; but despite that, he was never the one I really wanted. No matter how good I was at convincing myself of the opposite. “Plus,” I continue, “the woodworking? Hot.”

“I know.” Jonathan blushes. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him do that, and I smile so widely it hurts. “It’s funny,” he muses. “He reminds me of you.”

“Huh?” I cock my head to the side. “I’m not a woodworker.”

“No,” he says, chuckling. “But you’re both hyper-organized elementary school teachers. It’s a pretty distinct personality type.” I think back to the neatly organized stacks of books on Finn’s bookshelf and his immaculately clean room. We definitely do have that in common. “But,” Jonathan says with an air of sadness, “if this whole ordeal has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to keep living two lives. One is hard enough. I think maybe I’m ready to really give this a try. And I don’t think Finn is there yet. I don’t want to keep sneaking through the back door of his apartment.”

I try to think of something encouraging to say, but as usual, I fall short.

Jonathan continues. “I just…I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time. Your twenties are supposed to be the decade when you figure your shit out, and I spent it pretending to be someone I’m not. It almost feels too late now, starting over at nearly thirty. I waited too long.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I swat his words out of the air. “There isn’t a timeline for these types of things. And thirty is so young! Your life is just starting.”

“Ha!” Jonathan snorts. “You’re one to talk.”

I squint at him, confused.

“Phoebe…I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve threatened to end it all if you’re still a virgin by the time you’re thirty.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” I’m quick to reply.

“Is it?” he asks.

I don’t know. Is it? If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that it’s not too late for Jonathan. Nothing strikes me as wrong about him moving at his own pace, even though it’s the very same thing I’ve beat myself up over for years.

Could it be that there’s nothing wrong with me, either? I can feel the seeds of an epiphany begin to take root.

For the first time in my life, I know exactly what to say.

“Do you think it’s too late for me?” I ask.

“Huh?” He looks at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it’s too late for me?” I repeat with conviction. “I haven’t dated anyone. I haven’t had sex. I’ve never been in love. I’m turning thirty in twelve days. Do you think it’s too late for me?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Right.” I nod slowly, a smile forming on my face. “So why would it be any different for you?”

I can see his jaw working while he thinks. “I guess you’re right.”

“We’re in this together.”

“We’re in this together,” he whispers.

The message that Sandy has been trying to communicate to me for years is finally starting to sink in. Maybe it’s not such a terrible thing to go through life at your own pace.

There’s nothing wrong with me.

The thought startles me. It’s the first time I’ve ever believed it.

I jump at the chance to say the words out loud before they disappear. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us.”

He looks at me, deliberating. “I don’t think there is, either.”

“We have time.”

“We have time,” he agrees.

When I breathe in, it feels like I’m inhaling new air. I feel lighter.

“What now?” I ask.

“Well,” he starts, standing up and offering his hand to me. “I should talk to Finn at some point. I need to figure out where his head is at.” I nod. “But that can wait. Tonight, I just want to hang with you. I hear there’s a new season of Love Is Blind.” He smirks as I jump up and down with excitement.

He reaches to open the door, but I grab hold of his arm to stop him. “Oh, one last thing,” I whisper, raising my eyebrows in the direction of the cubicles. “Sydney. Are you even friends with her?”

“Johnny,” he imitates in a mocking voice, rolling his eyes. “I can’t stand her.”

My mouth falls open. “Jonathan Cooper shit-talking. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He smiles. “I’ve always had this weird idea that saying something bad behind someone’s back would give them permission to do the same. And I never wanted anyone talking about me; I was too scared of what they might say. Now”—he shrugs—“I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m not that scared anymore.”