“I know, and I was wrong to give you an ultimatum. I told you, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He takes a breath. “I came to a few conclusions.”
My stomach drops when he sticks one hand in his jacket pocket. Oh dear God. Please don’t let him pull out a velvet jeweler’s box.
Is it crazy that I almost wish he’s going for a gun? That he plans on holding everyone hostage until I agree to get back together with him? For some screwed up reason, I think I’m better equipped to handle that than a proposal.
But his hand emerges with a narrow envelope. He sets it on the tabletop.
“What’s that?” I stare at the envelope as if it contains Anthrax.
“Open it,” he urges.
Fuckity fuck.
“Please.”
The sincerity in his tone causes me to cave. I pick up the envelope. It’s sealed, but the flap is tucked in so I use my fingernail to pry it out. I peek inside and see a single sheet of paper, which I extract and unfold as I fight my growing trepidation.
Shock hits me first. Followed by suspicion. Followed by deep distress, because…what the heck am I supposed to say to this?
I’m staring at a confirmation receipt for two airline tickets to Los Angeles, California. The flight departs the day after graduation.
I bite my lip and lift my gaze to Sean’s.
“You and me, baby,” he says fervently. “This is what I should’ve done in the first place. It was stupid to try and force you to move to Vermont. What I needed to do was swallow my pride and move to LA. With you.”
Oh God. Why did I insist on meeting in public? Public is bad. Public means everyone is about to witness Sean’s agony and humiliation when I say—
“No.”
Uncertainty passes over his face. “What?”
“You’re not coming to LA with me.”
Sean’s mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. I give him a moment to digest what I just said. Unfortunately, it’s the same moment my phone buzzes. I dig around in my purse and…wonderful, a text from Dean.
Him: Game’s done. Hurricanes rocked it like a hurricane. Beau can’t meet up til later. Quickie?
God, I wish.
Me: Can’t. In the middle of something brutal over here.
“Why not?” Sean finally asks.
“Because…” I’m distracted.
Him: Everything ok?
Me: Yeah. Having coffee with Sean.
There’s an interminably long delay.
Sean is still waiting for me to answer. I’m waiting for Dean to answer. I realize I probably shouldn’t have said anything to Dean, but I’d been typing on autopilot.
He comes back with:
WTF?
Me: I know *sigh* I’ll explain everything later, k?
There’s no response after that, and Sean is looking increasingly irritated. “Who are you texting?” he demands.
“Hannah,” I lie.
The worst part about dating someone for as long as I dated Sean? They always know when you’re lying.
“Bullshit.” Anger infuses his eyes, dark and fierce. “Is it that guy? The one you slept with?”
“No, it’s not.” This time I don’t care if he sees through the lie. “And even if it was, it’s none of your business. We’re broken up.” I take a breath. “And that’s the reason you can’t come to LA with me.”
Sean’s mouth flattens. His face and neck take on a deep flush. Even the tips of his ears are red. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry. I just think…it’s time we moved on from each other.”
“Move on from each other, or move on to other people?” His snotty tone raises my hackles. “Like this guy whose name you won’t tell me?”
I could be a jerk and toss out another “it’s none of your business.” I could also philosophize and give him the whole “if you love someone, let them go” spiel.
I do neither. I simply slide the tickets toward him and say, “I’m sorry. I hope you’re able to get a refund for these. And I really hope you figure out what your passion is, whether it’s working for your dad or doing something else.” Damn it, I’m choking up. “I really do want the best for you, Sean. I want you to be happy.”
He doesn’t answer. He sits there. Stone-faced.
I scrape my chair back. My hands shake as I put on my coat. I don’t bother telling him we can still be friends, because I know he doesn’t want to hear that right now. Besides, I’m not about to make any promises I might be unable to keep.