She gave a tiny nod. In all the time she’d known Mark, she’d rarely heard him curse, and she’d never seen him looking so hurt or angry. His voice was venomous as he raked both hands through his hair.
“Abby,” he said, “what the fuck?”
She didn’t have a good answer. She didn’t have any answer. She tried to keep her voice steady as she repeated, “I’m sorry.”
Mark dragged his hands through his hair again. She heard him breathing in and out. “Okay,” he finally said. “So what do you want? Are we breaking up?” Before she could reply, he gave her a look that was both flat and incredulous. “Before you answer, let me just say how absolutely fucking ridiculous and insulting I find it that you’d pick that…” He spluttered as he tried to come up with a word, and finally just gestured derisively in the direction of the driveway. “That… over me.”
“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I know.”
“I mean, what the fuck?” He raised his voice. “This guy’s a sex addict! He goes through women like they’re M&Ms!”
Which, of course, made Abby remember the bag of that candy Mark had left under her pillow, one night at Camp Golden Hills. Mark was so sweet, so dear, so kind. So why didn’t she want him? Why couldn’t she picture a future with him without getting weak-kneed and nauseated and wanting to get on her bike and ride far away?
“All your talk about how women are people and you don’t want to be objectified, and then you go and hook up with a guy like that.” His voice was bitter.
Sebastian’s not a guy like that, Abby thought. Except maybe he was. At least, he had been, very recently. And he told her he wanted to change, but could she believe him? How well did she know him? How much did she trust him? Was it even possible for him to be any better?
“I don’t get it,” Mark was saying. “I don’t understand. Is that all you think of yourself? Is that what you think you’re worth?”
“Maybe,” she said, in a tiny voice. Maybe that is all I think of myself. She didn’t have a career. She lived in a place her parents had found, and still used her parents’ passwords to watch TV. She’d never finished her master’s degree, she didn’t own a car, and she had less than a thousand dollars in her checking account. The only thing she’d figured out how to do in her years on the planet was live relatively happily in a larger body, and she couldn’t even manage that all the time. Maybe, deep down, she didn’t believe that she deserved any better than someone like Sebastian, any more than a few hours of fun with a guy who’d probably forget about her the minute he got back to Williamsburg, like he’d forgotten about dozens, maybe hundreds, of women before her.
Mark was wiping furiously at his eyes. “I love you.”
“I know,” Abby whispered. “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m so sorry.”
“We had a life together. Which you just tossed in the trash.” He grabbed at his hair again, took a shuddering breath, and sat down on the couch beside her. Abby let him take her hand.
“I could forgive you,” he said, staring straight ahead. “We could try to get through this. If that’s what you want.” He turned toward her, giving her a hard look. “Is that what you want?”
Abby felt her eyes getting hot and her throat get tight. She knew what the truth was and made herself say it. “You deserve someone better than me.”
Mark dropped her hand and shook his head. “So that’s it, then?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wishing the ground would open up and let her fall through it; wishing she’d never met Sebastian; wishing she was anywhere but here. “You’re a wonderful man, and a wonderful boyfriend, and I know…” She swallowed hard, wishing that life had a fast-forward button, so that it could be an hour or a day or a week or even a year from now, and this would be over.
“Why?” Mark asked. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Hey, you don’t get to give me the silent treatment. I deserve an answer. What’s he got that I don’t have? Besides lots and lots and lots of experience?”
He knows how to ride a bike, Abby thought, but did not say. A wiser woman doing a side-by-side comparison of Mark and Sebastian would have chosen Mark in a heartbeat. He was the safer bet, the sure thing. Even if Mark couldn’t ride a bike, even if he sometimes accidentally threw out her leftovers or let her ice cream get freezer burn, even if the sex, even at the beginning, had been good instead of great, Mark was the better choice. Mark would love her forever; he’d be steadfast and unfailingly kind and a wonderful father. Sebastian might not even remember her name next week. He might not want to be a father at all.