His complete bewilderment makes me laugh.
He shakes his head. “Crazy fucking statement. Not attracted to you? Jesus.” He pauses. “So mystery solved. Was it gratifying to see me completely lose my shit in record time?”
“A little.”
He nods. “At least you’re being honest.”
Honest. Right. He used to tell me I’d be horrified if I knew the stuff that went through his head every day. Now the reverse is true. Still, I know nothing’s going to improve between us if I keep things from him.
I take a deep breath and say, “Elissa said I need to figure out if I can make this work, and if I can’t, I need to let you get on with your life.”
He turns to me, his expression intense and on edge.
“I love my sister, but she really needs to stop giving you sucky advice.”
“She’s trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“Don’t you? Have you considered that maybe you’re placing all your hope in something that’s doomed to fail?”
That makes him pause. He studies me. “No. Have you?”
I want to laugh. “Ethan, that’s all I’ve thought about for the last three years. I mean, I know the accident inspired you to better yourself and try to get me back or whatever, but until we started this show, I didn’t know that. As far as I was concerned, we were over. We’d been over for a long time. I had my future all planned out, and as painful as it was to admit, you weren’t going to be a part of it. Now, I have to entertain the possibility that you’ve changed and will stick around? I mean, come on. It’s difficult to process. Did you ever think that your epic plan to get us back together should have included consulting me?”
“I tried to tell you in the e-mails.”
“But you didn’t. You told me you were getting help and that you wanted to be part of my life again, but you spoke about being friends, nothing more. You didn’t even tell me you loved me, remember?”
He rubs his eyes. “I thought I had it all figured out but … fuck, Cassie, I’m sorry. I’m kind of new to this whole winning-back-the-love-of-my-life thing.”
He says it so easily. Like it’s not one of the most momentous things he’s ever uttered.
Love of my life.
It’s such an cliché, but that’s exactly what we are to each other. Even if we both walk away now and end up in other relationships, we’ll forever be that. Some people never find it. Yet here it is right in front of me, and I have no idea how to keep it.
“Cassie, remember how pissed you used to get when I was thinking important stuff but wouldn’t tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I can tell you’re doing that right now. Care to share?”
I sigh. “I’m thinking that … I really want to change, but I don’t know how, and part of me thinks it might be too late, anyway.”
“That’s not true.”
“What if it is? Denying how badly this could end up doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. I think you believe that if you ignore that I’m broken, it will somehow make it not true. But it is.”
“Cassie—”
I stand and pace. He wants to know what I’m thinking? All of a sudden, I want to give it to him.
“And I sometimes think the only reason you want me back is because sexually, we’re spectacular. But what if we get back together, and months from now we realize that apart from great sex, we really have nothing in common? Then we’ll have gone through all of this for nothing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it? Maybe we’re just one of those volatile couples who are supposed to fuck like animals for a few months, then go their separate ways. We’ve never really had the chance to get each other out of our systems. But what if we did? What if we finally realized all the crap that fueled our problems also fueled our passion, and without it we’re dead in the water?”
He stares at me. “You don’t honestly believe that.”
“Maybe I do. I don’t even know anymore.”
He shakes his head and smiles.
Smiles.
Why doesn’t he look terrified? I just spewed all of my crazy at him, and he seems completely calm.
What the fuck did that therapist do to him? Did she have all of his fear and panic surgically removed?
“Cassie, come here.”
He’s still so calm, he’s like freaking Buddha. If Tristan were here, he’d have a Zen boner.
“Please,” he says, as I stew in my agitation. “I need to show you something.”
I go and stand in front of him. He takes my hands and strokes them gently, then pulls me forward until I’m straddling him.
Now I’m agitated and aroused. Not sure what this is going to prove.
“I thought we were keeping this platonic,” I say as he grips my hips.
“We are.”