Garrett looked like I had struck him with a shovel.
“He what?” Garrett growled.
His vein was pulsing on his neck, his fists clenched.
“He…yeah,” was all I could say.
“I wish—God I wish you had told me about him.”
I looked at his white-knuckled fists, then his reddening face.
“I feel like I’d be visiting you in prison if I’d told you then,” I said.
He looked directly into my eyes. “You would be.”
Tears clouded my vision, and I looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep my emotions somewhat neutral while I got the rest out. I brought my face back to his. There was a dark storm where blue eyes had been.
“When you touched me, in the bar that night—I—it triggered that moment in the studio for me. I was mortified after that. I didn’t want to be around you—I didn’t know how to be around you. And I just want you to know that I—” My voice cracked upon his softened face, eyes blue and inches from mine. “I was in love with you. Deeply. I said what I said that night because I did wish for us to end up together. And I lost myself for a little while, but I’ve gotten the help I need, and I…”
He was frozen. Unmoving. I had to finish. I had to say it all. I was so tired of housing so much regret.
“That time, at the club, on the dance floor, sleeping with you that night—it was one of the most—it was one of the best nights of my life. I felt something there that I don’t think many people get to feel. And I hate that we went from that…to this.”
He blinked me back. I shifted in my seat and looked down at my hands.
“I know you’re happy, and I want that for you,” I said, my voice smaller. “I just—I can’t keep living like this. Pretending that what happened to me didn’t happen, and that it didn’t take something from us, too. And I wasn’t sure it was fair for just me to know that.”
I let my eyes find his again. Pain spread across his face as his eyes left mine.
“This is”—he swallowed hard, his focus on his hands—“this is a lot.” His eyes came back toward me. “Are you okay?” he asked. He asked it in such a way that if my answer was no, it might kill him.
“Honestly?” I smiled, staring into his bright blue eyes—ones that now held all of my truths—maybe horrible and horrible ones. “I’m getting there.”
He smiled quickly and looked back down at the table. My eyes narrowed again on the way he tugged at his throat—as if he had something he needed to get off his chest.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.
We talked idly about his job, his upcoming family vacation to Tuscany, which I knew he was going to with Cecily, but he didn’t mention her by name. Neither did I. I hoped she would pass like the rest of them, and that he’d show up at my door. My birthday was coming up in six weeks. Maybe he remembered. Of course he remembered. I’d just brought it up.
We stood to leave, and he stepped forward and hugged me. He held on a little tighter than usual, longer than he’d held me in four whole years.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, into my ear. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that alone.” He stepped back from me, and with a painful one-sided grin, he squeezed my hand. “I would have liked to have been there for you.”
I believed him, and I didn’t know where to put that kind of regret.
“See you soon, okay?” Garrett asked.
I nodded, and he walked out of the café.
Through the window, rain slapped down, and I watched Garrett approach the crosswalk, his umbrella curiously closed and limp by his side, rain drenching his body. The light changed to green, but he didn’t move. Garrett stood still, paralyzed. He put his hand on the back of his head and looked up at the darkening sky, blinking back something. I caught it—just a glimpse—right as he turned. His face was in agony. Complete agony. And then, he disappeared into the crowd.
50
THIRTY-FIVE
GARRETT AND I WERE AN inch apart on my stairs, eyes locked on to each other, his one hand in mine, his other cupping my cheek. I sat frozen, staring at him for a long while, the way you’d commit someone to memory before the casket closed. My face burned with tears as I tore my eyes away from his. I lowered my watery gaze down to the table, where Garrett’s fingers were still wrapped around mine. I slowly unclenched my grip, freeing myself from his hold. He dropped his hand from my cheek.
He knew.
Silence floated between us for a long while until our eyes met again.
“You love him, don’t you?” Garrett asked, his voice cracking with the realization.
I nodded effusively, tears down my cheeks.
“Yes.”
It was Garrett’s hand settling on my cheek, just minutes ago, that made me ache for Asher. I longed to call Asher and apologize for the very thing I was doing—sitting on the steps with another man while I should be sitting next to him. In that moment, I saw a supercut of all the things I’d miss about Asher if I had leaned into Garrett’s touch. I saw the beautiful life we’d build, where we’d both cheer each other on, where we’d be there to comfort each other during our dreams and our nightmares, where we’d be the most authentic versions of ourselves no matter what life hurled our way. It took sitting next to a man that I had spent twelve years loving, on one of the worst days of my life, for me to understand that Garrett Scholl wasn’t my person. It wasn’t just that he was engaged. I knew, the way you just know, that if I wanted Garrett in this moment—that if I asked him not to walk down the aisle, he would have called off his wedding. The way he had just looked at me, trembling hand on my face, eyes full of regret, it told me our entire what-if story. And I knew that choosing Garrett would have broken my heart every day. Because I wasn’t on these steps sitting next to my soulmate. I was sitting next to The One That Got Away. And I had to let him go.
A gorgeous purple sunset cut through the once-gray cityscape, beaming in through the window in the hallway, and I let my eyes settle on Garrett. He stared down at his hands. The lines on his face were lit with a deep purple hue, making him look almost too beautiful to say goodbye to. It was a fitting ending—the first time I had set eyes on Garrett, he was bathed in a violet stage light. I might as well let him walk into another life under this one.
The last twelve years swept through me like a tidal wave. I pointed my knees toward his, taking Garrett’s callused hand in mine, studying his fingers. I hoped he would hold someone like this one day—reading her hand like a map—as if letting her go would be like navigating life without a North Star. I inhaled fresh air, knowing I’d be just fine: I was already found.
“You know this is it for us, right? I can’t see you anymore,” I said, swallowing a throat of tears. He stared into my eyes, unmoving. “I will always remember how much I loved you, and think about you more times than I’ll probably want to admit to myself, but I can’t love you like this anymore.”
He shifted his jaw, pain all over his face. After a moment, he nodded softly.
“Does he make you happy?” he asked, the thought bringing his face together in pain.