“I’m fine,” I answered instead. Nobody wanted the truth. The truth was ugly. I was lost. The Hattie I knew a couple of months ago had disappeared. No matter how many times I tried to pull my life together, I couldn’t. Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing.
His feet shifted on the hardwood floors outside the door and the floor creaked.
“I made breakfast.” I didn’t respond. “Yogurt with chia seeds and fruit.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” I said, wiping my nose with a tissue. I couldn’t believe he knew what I liked for breakfast. We had lived together for two years, and he hadn’t acknowledged my preference once.
The door handle rattled. “Will you unlock the door? You’re scaring me.”
My gaze dropped to the stick in my hand. Shit. I surged to my feet and tossed the stick along with the folded directions back into the box. I rolled it inside a towel and hid it in the cabinet under the sink.
If Evan found it, I would have a lot of explaining to do. I hadn’t let him so much as kiss me on the lips since I moved back into his apartment the day after we flew back from Mexico. He slept on the pull out sofa bed every night, and I slept in the bedroom. He’d know the pregnancy test didn’t have anything to do with him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I cracked the door a few inches. Evan was fully dressed, his sandy brown hair perfectly gelled, and his jaw shaved with military precision.
The faint smile on his face evaporated. “Have you been crying?”
I glanced at the floor and rubbed my temples with my fingertips. My head throbbed from a combination of sleepless nights and nonstop bickering with Evan. “No. Not really.”
“Hattie,” Evan cautioned, closing his hands around my upper arms. I jerked away before I could stop my reaction. I didn’t want his hands on me. I never wanted his hands on me.
“I’m fine. Okay. Stop looking at me like I’m going to break.”
He raked his hands through his hair, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Then, he shook his head, and his face hardened into a cold mask. “Jesus, Hattie. This is getting old. You flinch if I touch you. You still won’t let me sleep in the bed with you. You turn to the side when I try to kiss you. You treat me like a stranger. What the hell? How long are we going to play this game?”
I slipped by him and walked to the kitchen. “What game?” I asked without glancing over my shoulder.
“You won’t tell me anything about what happened, which is fine. I get it. You’re still not ready to trust me, but you haven’t told your therapist anything either.”
I spun on my heel, my hair whipping the side of my face. Fear and anger skittered down my spine. “How the hell would you know what I tell my therapist?”
He held out his hands in front of him in mock surrender. “I don’t. She hasn’t told me anything except that you haven’t opened up to her. That you’ve spent every session feeding her a bunch of uninformative answers.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” My hands shaking, I lifted the coffee carafe and poured the dark liquid into a mug. “You know what happened. I was abducted, and now I’m home. That’s it. Sitting in a room, dissecting every detail with a stranger won’t miraculously heal me.”
He slapped his hand against the countertop, rattling my coffee mug. “Dammit, Hattie. If you didn’t have anything to tell, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”
I focused on the television streaming the morning news across the room. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t take this anymore. Every morning and every night we had the same conversation. It was an endless loop, replaying over and over. “It’s only been two weeks. Can’t you give me time to process everything that’s happened? When I’m ready, I’ll talk. I promise.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and then whispered, “I’m trying. I really am. Don’t give up yet.”
He leaned his hips against the kitchen counter and sighed. “Okay. You’re right. I won’t push you. I promised we’d work through this together and we will.”
I lifted my cup of coffee to my lips, letting the steam curl around my face. “I’m sorry. I wish I could offer you more.” The last two weeks had passed in a blur of nothingness. Holed up in our small two-bedroom townhome, I went through the motions of living, but I felt detached from everything and everyone. Nothing seemed real anymore. I floated through life like a zombie…lifeless, brainless, and indifferent.
“I asked for a second chance. You moved back in. You’re wearing the ring.” He knitted his fingers through mine, lifting my hand, displaying the engagement ring he gave me two weeks ago. “But you can’t be mad at me for wanting more.”
“More?” My mind raced with the implications of his request. Could I give him more? I wanted to move on with my life, but was Evan the answer? I didn’t know. The thought of being intimate with him repulsed me.
He swiveled around and pinned me against the countertop. “Yes. I want my girlfriend back. I want the woman I’ve loved for the last four years back. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to laugh with you. I want to make you happy again. Is that so bad?”
I swallowed over the lump lodged in my throat. “I wish I could be her again, but I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible.” He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “But you have to get up every day and try.”
He was right. I barely left the house anymore. I went to the therapist twice a week. I ate dinner at my parents’ house every Sunday. That’s it. I took a leave of absence from school, and instead of graduating next month, I’d put it off indefinitely. Vera had been blowing up my phone every day since I stepped foot off the plane with Evan. I never answered her calls, but I did send her a text every day or two. I couldn’t face her yet. She’d want answers. Answers I wasn’t ready to give. Answers I might never be ready to give.
“Maybe.”
He leaned forward, his lips only inches from mine. My mind pleaded with me to push him away. Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my muscles to melt into him. I needed to let go of the past and move forward. That meant exploring if there was anything left between Evan and me. His lips brushed across mine. I balled my hands into fists.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I tilted my head to the side and parted my lips, pushing my limits, moving outside of my comfort zone. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste all mixed together. His tongue moved against mine, testing my willingness.
It’s not bad.
I’m not hurting anyone.
I’m not cheating.
Slowly, I uncurled my fists, breathing through my nose. My eyes popped open, and I studied his face. His eyes were closed. He looked relaxed…peaceful even. I counted to ten in my head. Eight, nine, ten…and that was all I could manage for today.
I turned my head to the side, breaking the kiss. “Stop.”