“About what?”
“About how I feel for you. That it’s real, and it won’t die just because you’re a woman and Alex was a guy…my love for you won’t die, ever, just like it hasn’t for him. But you’re it for me now, Becca. You are the one. He’s gone and much as I’ll always love him, I’m alive and here. And so are you.” He steps much closer, lifting a palm to my cheek, and I don’t duck away. “And so are you, Rebecca O’Neill. It’s not just me that’s been in the dark for far too long.”
My eyes drift shut and I savor the feel of his hand against my cheek; I lean into his palm, wanting to cry in relief at being touched by him again. But then my chest grows tight, and the fear surfaces again. The fear that if I take this chance on this unusual, risky man, that I’ll wind up slashed and dying—not physically, not like before—but that my heart and soul will be destroyed.
“I want to take you to that fan event and show Jake and all your friends that we’re happy together. That you’re alive again and so am I.”
Slowly, I move his hand away from my face, opening my eyes. “We’re not happy. We’re not even a couple.” Backing away from him, I shake my head decisively. “You’re not coming with me to that gathering, Michael. I am going alone.”
His voice drops low, becomes serious. “Alone’s a bad way to be, baby. Believe me, I’ve tried it.”
“Don’t call me that anymore.” My rebuff sounds weak and unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“What do you want from me, Rebecca? You really want me to let you go? To let you out of my life?” he asks. “I have so much to tell you, so much I want you to know. Things I’ve realized since Malibu…things I’ve realized about you, Becca—you and me—that I want to talk about.”
I stop in my tracks, my throat raw. “Michael, we did talk about this. The last time I saw you. We agreed you needed to get back out there. That it’s time to start dating again. Not me, but the right kind of…people. You know I’m not what you need.”
“Only one person ever said that, and it was you.”
“Michael, I will always be a woman, and you—”
“Do you want me queer?” he asks, and it strikes me that he’s not looking around, not worried about his boss or his electrician pals. “Is that it, Becca? Does that make it easier for you?”
“Than what?”
He seems to gaze right through me. “Than feeling vulnerable because you love me.”
My mouth opens, but nothing—absolutely nothing—springs to mind for me to overcome what he’s just said. “That’s exactly what I thought,” he answers boldly, giving me a challenging look as he climbs back into the cart. “It’s a whole lot easier for you if I’m gay. The only problem? I love you. I love you, Rebecca, and I’m not giving up.”
***
Several days after running into Michael on the lot, I’m at Whole Foods. It’s a Sunday night and I’m totally depressed because I can’t decide if I’m being foolish to shut down my heart and life to Michael, or if I’m being a smart girl who knows how to look after herself. Seeing the array of fresh spices takes me back to the first night when I went to his bungalow and cooked for them, the first night I found out the truth about his sexuality.
Is it possible that I really misunderstood everything between us so badly? He says he loves me; he keeps saying it. He called me last night, too late for friends—just late enough to create a familiar intimacy as I lay in bed, trying to tell myself to chastise him for ringing me after midnight on a Saturday night.
“So, you just in from a big night out?” I asked him, trying not to sound like he’d just woken me up. After all, a hot single woman should have plans, not be stretching her legs and struggling to sit up in bed so early on a Saturday night.
He blew out a heavy breath. “I should be with you. You should be with me, Rebecca. That’s what should be going down tonight, so no, I didn’t have a hot date.”
“I told you what I think.”
“Tell me again.”
“You need to have a few dates with some men. See how that feels.”
“If I do that, give it a test run on your behalf, then would you believe that I love you?”
Tears filled my eyes. “I’ve gotta…got to run.”
“Wait!” He stopped me right as I was about to click the end button on my cell. “Just hold up, Becca, please.”
I waited, but said nothing. He stayed silent, too, the only sound his breathing for a long moment. “You tell me what it will take. Tell me how I can make you believe how real this is for me, and I’ll do it.”
The tears burned my eyes in earnest then. There’s just too much pain in my own past, my own life, for me to ever believe in his love. Not now. And I knew it right then.