His eyes widen in horror. “You made her go down on you and then flew the coop?”
“No,” I stammer. “It wasn’t a good time for her, and . . .” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”
He stares at me.
“We’re friends, like, best friends, and she’s all I can think about, and then I’ve gone and fucked it up,” I blurt out.
“Why have you fucked it?”
“Because I’m . . .” I try to search for the right terminology. “Me.”
He drains his glass, too, and puts his hand up to signal for more drinks. “I need more tequila for this conversation.”
We sit in silence for a while.
“So . . . you don’t want her?”
“That’s the problem. I do.”
He screws up his face. “So why aren’t you pursuing this?”
“Because I already know I’m going to fuck it up, and she’s the one person I can’t hurt.”
“Why do you say that?” He frowns.
“I’m not good enough for her.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous,” he scoffs.
“Is it?” I reply. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and the reality is, Elliot—and you and I both know this is true—I can’t hold a relationship for even a week. I get bored. I have a wandering eye. I’ve never been able to take something to the next level.” I try to articulate myself better. “I’m just not built to be with one woman. I don’t want anyone depending on me.”
“Because you’ve never been in love before,” he snaps.
What?
My face falls.
“You’re scared.”
“I am not fucking scared,” I fire back.
“Bullshit. You’ve fallen in love with this girl, and you’re fucking shit scared.”
“I am not in love with her,” I fume. “I couldn’t be. We don’t even sleep together.”
I drain my other margarita.
“And yet . . .” He holds his hand out toward me. “Look at you.”
I drag my hand down my face in disgust.
“Look, I know that you have always said to me that when it’s time to get married, you will pick someone and just do it. But let me tell you a secret, little brother . . . it doesn’t happen like that. It isn’t a conscious decision that you make. One day a woman will weave her way so deep under your skin that you will have no choice but to follow your heart.”
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. “I can’t be divorced, Elliot.”
His face falls. “Why would you even say that?”
“Because I can’t.” Anxiety tightens in my chest. “I would rather be dead than be divorced. A failed marriage is something that I couldn’t forgive myself for. If I can’t do it right, I don’t want to do it at all.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He screws up his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The waiter puts another four margaritas down in front of us.
“Thanks.” Elliot nods. We fall silent, both lost in our own thoughts.
“What do you think is going to happen?” he asks. “If you pursue this, what do you think is going to happen?”