I knew that everything about this was going to hurt, but seeing the realization on Mackenzie’s face—the dissipation of her smile, the surprise in her eyes that quickly turns to pain, the way her mouth parts like she can’t comprehend what I’m saying—experiencing it all proves enough to actually gut me. I can almost feel the knife twisting in my belly.
And I can’t let it show.
She pulls her hands from the table to tuck them in her lap, looking away from me as her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I just don’t think it’s going to work,” I say flatly, everything inside me screaming to reach out and touch her, to take away the hurt forming in her eyes.
She laughs, but it’s humorless. “You don’t think it’s going to work.”
“I heard from Albuquerque, and they want me to start right away.”
“Do they,” she says hollowly, and I feel the knife twist deeper.
“It’s just that it’s going to be a lot more responsibility than I originally thought. Between the move and the workload . . . I don’t know if it’s the right time to try juggling a long-distance relationship.”
She laughs again, a brittle sound that makes my chest hurt, finally looking at me with teary eyes. “You don’t know if it’s the right time.”
“Listen, it’s not anything that you did, it’s—”
“Please don’t give me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” she says angrily. “Don’t you dare, Noah.”
I feel my resolve wavering, the pain and anger in her face breaking me down. She’s trying to hide it from me, the way my words are cutting her, but I can see it in the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her jaw juts forward and her teeth worry at her lower lip like she’s trying to keep them from quivering. It’s something I’ve never seen before on Mackenzie, sadness, and I feel every ounce of it like it’s my own, like it’s a wound that I’m actively poking at. I know that after this it’s one that might never heal.
I have to remind myself that I’m saving her from a lot more hurt than this, knowing that she would never forgive me if I ruined her career. I can still hear Dennis’s smug voice ringing in my ears.
I guess you’re just going to have to be very convincing then. Aren’t you.
I take a deep, agonizing breath.
“Mackenzie . . . This was always supposed to be temporary.”
“Oh, fuck you,” she hisses. “You and I both know we moved past temporary out at that lodge. You asked me on a fucking date. Why did you ask me on a fucking date, Noah? And all the other shit lately? What was all of that, huh?”
I’m struck for a moment, seeing the exact second that I’m losing her playing out all over her face. I don’t think I could have ever anticipated it would hurt this much. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I think that before this moment I had somehow convinced myself that it would be something that we could both move on from; it feels like such a short time has passed since she first approached me in that tiny break room at the hospital, so how could something cultivated over such a brief amount of time have a lasting impact?
Love sure as hell isn’t easy.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s all I can say, really, because it’s the strongest thing I’m feeling. “I honestly am, Mackenzie. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well,” she huffs. “Good. Because I’m not.” Even through her tearstained eyes, I can see the way she tries to lock down her emotions. The way she’s desperately trying not to let it show how much this is wounding her. It only makes me want to soothe her more. “Like you said. This was always supposed to be temporary.”
She looks right into my eyes then, and part of me is begging her to see the truth there, begging her to fight me on this. Surely she has to know how I truly feel. I know I didn’t imagine these last few weeks and all the little things that have been growing between us. I didn’t imagine the way this arrangement has started to shift into anything but casual. I want her to see through the lie. I want her to fight me. Just a little.
She makes a frustrated sound, slapping her hands on the table. “Did you ask me here just so I wouldn’t make a scene? Really? You had to choose the first place we ever went to? What, being an asshole wasn’t enough, you had to make it fucking personal?”
God, even like this, she’s beautiful. Even when she’s hating me. My hands itch to touch her, to take away every ounce of pain I’ve caused and tell her this isn’t what I want at all, and I have to keep them clenched tight beside me just to keep from doing so. It feels impossible to imagine never touching her again, torturous—but torture is exactly what I have to look forward to. There’s no coming back from this.
I keep reminding myself that I’m doing this for her. Even if it hurts like hell.
“I really am sorry,” I offer quietly, not knowing what else to say.
What else is there to say?
“You’re sorry,” she echoes dryly. “Perfect. That means a lot.”
“Mackenzie, I—”
She grabs her coat, gathering it up hastily as she starts to slide out of the booth. “Just save it, Noah. Seriously. I get it.” She shoves her arms through the sleeves of her coat, untrapping her hair from the collar. The motion brings about a wave of her scent, and it’s less bright, almost bitter. It’s painful, knowing I’m to blame. “You didn’t want a scene, right? So let’s just cut this short.” She chuffs out another spiteful laugh. “We had a good time, right? We enjoyed our little addendum? No harm, no foul, really.”
“No, Mackenzie, that’s not what I—”
She pulls her coat tight, casting me one last hard expression, and I know it’ll be the last of her I’ll ever see. “Congrats on the new job, Dr. Taylor.”
I watch her walk away from me, seeing the way she wipes at her eyes while everything I am fights my decision to keep still. Part of me wonders if there had been another choice, if somehow we could have figured things out—but the more rational part of me knows that Dennis wouldn’t have stopped until he ruined my life and Mackenzie’s for good measure.
So I say nothing, and I do nothing, feeling all the happiness I’ve gained in the last few weeks ebb out of me slowly, leaving me empty and hollow, most likely never to be seen again. Mackenzie doesn’t look back as she storms out of the café, and for a long time after she’s gone, I remain frozen at the table, letting it sink in that she’s gone. That she’ll never come back, and that I’ll always be a bad memory for her.
It’s almost funny how badly I had wanted to avoid complications like this. How I found them, anyway. How I’d do anything to get them back.
A bitter laugh bubbles out of me. Complicated.
Turns out there’s nothing more complicated than love.
* * *