I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek as she withdrew. “I’ll call you. Maybe we can meet for dinner next week.”
“That’d be great.” She smiled and clasped Oliver’s hand in her own. “Hey, love you,” she called over her shoulder as she led him toward the exit and out the door.
“Love you too,” I called back after her, the silver chimes on the door tolling like bells as she left.
Chapter Forty-Two
A few hours later, I found myself back in Tribeca at Gabe’s apartment, my thoughts flashing back to Christmas Day. I remembered standing in this exact spot, mascara running down my cheeks, shivering under Adam’s Princeton hoodie, not knowing who would be on the other side of that door. Then, seeing Gabe’s face, I’d felt as if the nightmare I’d been living had maybe transformed into a wonderful dream.
I used to think that my life had two possibilities, two paths, Gabe or Adam. A or B. But over these last few months I’d come to understand I was wrong. There were other letters of the alphabet, other avenues, other outcomes, and I was the one who would get to choose.
I knocked lightly on Gabe’s door and moments later he opened it, a broad, welcoming smile on his face, and motioned for me to come inside. He took my coat, hung it on the back of a chair, and said, “I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voice mail. Have you been in the audition this whole time?”
I slung my bag off my shoulder and rested it by the door. “No, I finished up a few hours ago.”
His eyes went round. “A few hours ago? Where’ve you been all afternoon?”
“Actually, I met up with Marisol.”
His face contorted in shock. “Marisol? How? Why?”
Unsure of how to answer his questions, I remained quiet for a moment. He raised his brows as an indication that he was waiting, and instead, I said, “Did you know I was afraid of roller coasters?”
He seemed utterly confused by the change of topic. “Roller coasters? I don’t think so. I guess, we’ve never ridden one together, but I didn’t know you were afraid of them.”
“Can we sit down?” I asked.
He nodded and led me over to the couch.
I continued, “I am afraid of roller coasters. Terrified, actually. Marisol tried to get me to ride the Cyclone for years, but I’ve always chickened out at the last minute. Do you know where I went yesterday? Before my audition?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know? I assumed you were rehearsing somewhere. I was trying to give you your space like you asked.”
“I wasn’t rehearsing. I went to Coney Island, and I rode the Cyclone for the first time ever. And do you know what? It really wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of great.”
He searched my eyes for meaning. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following you.”
“I can’t marry you, Gabe.” The words fell out in one breath before I could even consider their weight.
Gabe reeled back, his eyes scanning my face for more. “Wait, did you get the role?” he asked, trying to put the pieces together.
“No, I won’t hear anything for a few more weeks.”
“Then I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
I cast my eyes to the ground to avoid the hurt now flooding his expression. “I can’t marry you because we shouldn’t get married. I think deep down you know it too. We’re trying to make this thing fit because we want to believe that the universe has it all worked out for us. But that just isn’t true.”
He cupped my chin, gently nudging it in his direction, forcing me to meet his gaze. “No, you’re wrong. We’ve been given the gift of a second chance, and we get to make it work this time,” he said, urgency filling his voice.
I stood up and walked over to the window, taking in the expanse of buildings out over the horizon. “Except we were so caught up in the here and now, we never bothered confronting all the reasons that didn’t work the last time. You haven’t done anything wrong. And neither have I. You are who you are, and I love who you are. You’re an incredible human being, and I don’t want to ask you to change all the things that make you you . . . for me. And I know you wouldn’t want that either. That’s the thing—the thing people don’t talk about enough. How it’s possible to love someone and want everything good for that person, but despite that, also know it still isn’t meant to be.” I turned to face him. “I want you to go to DC and do all the amazing things I know you’ll do there. But I can’t go with you.”
“You don’t have to come to Washington with me right now.” He advanced toward me, but I backed away, afraid that if he stepped in too close or grazed against my skin just the right way, I’d completely lose my nerve. He relented and swiped a hand over his chin while he thought. “We can do long distance for a while, you know, until you’re ready to move to DC. Lots of people do.”
For a while. Deep down, though—he’d never admit it, and maybe he wasn’t even aware—he still saw my dreams as secondary to his own, much like Adam had. Maybe I’d even given them both that impression over the years. But it wasn’t how I felt now. Not anymore. It wasn’t Gabe who was “The One That Got Away,” it was me. I was the one who had gotten away, and I wouldn’t let that happen again, even if it broke my heart and his to be the one who had to say it.
I held up my hands to create a barrier between us. “It isn’t about the distance and isn’t about not wanting to go. It’s about wanting to stay. You once told me I could light up Manhattan if I just let myself. And I want to try, need to try. You know it too, Gabe, we want . . . we just want different things.”
He gently lowered my arms and stepped in close, his body hovering over mine and his eyes pleading with me to just give in. “I want you,” he whispered, his hands coming up to rest on my cheeks and then tracing their way to the sensitive skin on my neck.
I thought my heart was going to shatter into a million pieces right there, but it stayed surprisingly resolute. I pulled back and rested my palm on his chest. “No, you want the me that would pack up her whole life right now, give everything else up, and follow you without a second thought or single ounce of regret. But I’d be filled with it. It would poison us. Maybe not at first, but over time.”
“But I love you. And you love me.” He shook his head, moistened his lips, and looked into my eyes. “You jump, I jump, right?”
“No, Gabe. Not this time. I can’t jump. I do love you. If that was all this was about, my answer would be easy. But don’t you see, in so many ways we’re right back to where we were seven years ago when we sat in that café, our passions pushing us to different places. Places I know deep down we both want to go, and should go, without anything or anyone holding us back.”
“Holding us back . . . ,” Gabe repeated in a whisper with a disbelieving nod, as if the words were too heavy to say with more force.
He stayed silent for a moment, not firing back a rebuttal, his default, which was all the confirmation I needed to know that though this was painful beyond measure, somewhere in his gut, he agreed.