Claire processed that for a moment, trying to repel her knee-jerk defensive reaction. “I don’t think I project it on everyone I care about. And I don’t expect Graham or anyone else to stop doing things they love because of my issues. I’m just saying those things affect who I choose to commit and start a family with. Is that so wrong? Don’t we all have nonnegotiables when it comes to searching for a partner?”
“Sure. I’ve always said I’d never marry someone who eats meat. I feel strongly about the reasons I’ve chosen to live a vegan lifestyle and I want to find someone who shares those beliefs. But can I promise with one hundred percent certainty that if the right man came along who happened to be a carnivore, I’d turn him down?” She shook her head. “Sometimes love likes to mess with us and remind us we’re not the ones in control.”
Claire frowned. “Love sounds like an asshole.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“From the very start I said I wouldn’t marry Graham and I never said otherwise. Our feelings may have changed during the course of the last month, but that doesn’t mean my decision did. All I’m doing is standing by what I’ve said all along. Is that so awful? Am I the most selfish person in the world?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Reagan said. “When someone falls in love with you, you’re not obligated to respond in a certain way. It sucks to know you hurt someone, but you have to do what you think is right. I’m not saying you should be with Graham to appease him—even if he took a huge step out of his comfort zone. I’m just worried about you. You seem pretty miserable. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She was miserable.
But continuing on the path she and Graham were headed down could foster a whole different kind of misery. One she’d lived through and never wanted to experience again.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind hinted it was too late. Relationship or not, Graham was the most important person in her life and she was already invested in his well-being and happiness.
“I don’t know,” Claire admitted, tucking her legs up against her chest. “I think so?”
Reagan cocked a single eyebrow.
Claire groaned. “Why couldn’t I have just met another guy sooner? I joined a dating app and everything. Maybe if I’d found someone nice this never would have happened.”
“You’d rather the last few weeks with Graham never happened?”
Damn Reagan and her shrewd questions. She was as bad as Mia.
“No.” She’d always remember them. “Sure would have made things easier, though.”
Reagan stretched her legs out and leaned forward to grab her toes. “A dating app, huh? Which one?”
“TrueChemistry.”
“Didn’t find anyone worth meeting?”
“There was one, but it was a disaster. And there was a dentist that looked promising, but I never sent him a message.”
“Why not?”
Claire shrugged. “We matched right before Graham and I went to visit his parents. I told myself I’d do it after we got back, but I didn’t. I let myself fall into my feelings with Graham, knowing it was a terrible idea. Seriously, I’m so messed up.”
“You fell for someone you promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for. This is the kind of stuff TV shows live for.”
“It’s like a daytime soap opera up in here,” Claire said, pointing to her heart.
Reagan shuddered. “Ugh. I always hated those.”
“Me, too. Now I know why.”
After a few seconds of silence, Reagan said, “Why don’t you message the dentist and just see what happens? It might help to take your mind off Graham for a little while, and maybe this new guy is exactly what you’ve been looking for.”
“Or he could be a total weirdo.”
“In that case, maybe you double back and reconsider your stance about Graham.”
That rubbed Claire the wrong way. “I don’t expect him to sit around and wait while I go out with other men.”
“Who says he’s waiting for you?” Reagan’s tone wasn’t harsh, but her words were still like a punch in the gut. “That doesn’t seem like him.”
Reagan was right: it wasn’t like the old Graham. But hadn’t he changed over these last few weeks? The emails seemed to suggest so, but what did Claire know?
“I’m not suggesting you go out with this guy to spite Graham, or even to compare them. Just a few weeks ago you were interested in meeting new people, so why not see it through with someone you’re supposedly compatible with? It might help clear things up for you. Help you figure out what you really want, you know?”
Claire looked down at her hands. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am.” Reagan stood and put her hands on her hips. “You know what else will clear your head? Alcohol.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.”
Reagan laughed. “But it will temporarily make you feel better while simultaneously guaranteeing you’ll feel like shit tomorrow.”
“That’s more like it.”
“I say we go out and try to have a little fun.”
Claire scrunched her nose and glanced down at the comfortable clothes she wore. “I don’t know...”
“I was thinking we could go to that tapas bar. Have chips and salsa with margaritas?”
“You had to say chips, didn’t you?”
“What can I say? I know my roommate.”
“Okay, I’m in.”
Reagan clapped and danced out of the room, calling over her shoulder, “Be ready in ten!”
Claire released a heavy sigh and didn’t move. Her eye caught on her phone charging on the bedside table.
She grabbed it and opened the TrueChemistry app and found Matt was still active in her recent matches.
She selected his name, opened a new message, and started to type.
26
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Do I hate you?
Claire,
How are you? Not gonna lie, I’ve been picturing you at least a little bit miserable. Maybe like, 25% miserable, 75% okay. Does that make me a jerk?
I’m more like 60/40 if that makes a difference, and I’d quickly shift to 80/20 if I thought you were out dancing and having fun every night and not thinking of me. Some of that’s the anger talking, but mostly it’s hurt. (Also, can we pause here and just acknowledge the things I’m saying right now? Apparently the emotion floodgates are open because I’ve just admitted to being miserable, angry, and hurt in the span of two paragraphs, something I haven’t done in more than two decades.)
For what it’s worth, I understand your choice. It doesn’t make it suck any less, because I don’t see myself coming back from this. Will I date other women? Sure, but the same way I dated women before I kissed you. I’ll never come close to giving another woman my heart.
Because even if you don’t want it, I’ll never get it back. It’s just following you around like a pathetic, lost puppy. Sort of like Gertrude that first week after I moved out. I really think she got attached to you.
We both did.
Anyway, sorry for going off topic. I was trying to say I don’t blame you, and that while I still love you, I hope you find what you’re looking for. I’ll never regret the time we had together, and I’m so fucking grateful for everything you did for me after I got hurt. Except for my parents, no one (and I mean NO ONE) has ever taken care of me like that. You made me feel special, somehow...that a woman like you would go out of her way to spend that much time with me. For a long time I didn’t feel like I was worth very much unless I was doing something that impressed or entertained people. But even in those quiet days and nights in my room when we talked about nothing important, you stayed.
It’s been four weeks since I’ve seen you. Don’t worry—your hair, eyes, and smile will be burned into my brain forever. But only seeing you in my memories and not in person is a certain kind of hell, and one I never thought I’d be in.
I don’t know where I’m going with this, but (1) I got in the habit of writing things down (thanks to you), (2) I wanted to tell you how badly I want to hate you for how this turned out, but (3) I don’t hate you. I love you.
Fuck. Now I’m crying.
Graham