Every Wrong Reason

“Because high school kids are assholes,” he added in my defense.

My lips turned up in another smile. “That they are.” I rubbed my chin on my shoulder as I looked at him. “The beginning of the year is always the hardest.”

He met my eyes with a steady gaze. “I remember.”

My heart thumped painfully in my chest and I took a deep breath before I could tear my attention from him. “Pasta.”

“What?” His voice was rougher than it had been a few seconds ago.

“You like pasta. And it’s easy to make.” I pointed at his favorite kind of noodles and sauce before adding some to my own cart. “Basically all you need to be able to do is boil water.”

He reached for some noodles. “I think I can handle spaghetti. If I have to eat another cheeseburger this week, I might murder Jared.”

I laughed. “Your brother doesn’t cook?”

Nick threw me an annoyed look. “Jared eats McDonalds. For every meal.”

I wrinkled my nose. I thought Nick and I had eaten badly, but that was above and beyond a bowl of ice cream every night. “He’s going to die of a heart attack. He’s twenty-six! He can’t live like that forever.”

Nick nodded, “I tell him that every day.”

I smiled thinking of Nick’s younger brother and how immature he could be. “He needs a woman to settle him down.”

My smile died when Nick flinched. I realized my mistake, but I didn’t know how to take it back. I just wanted to swallow every stupid word and run away.

Or throw a jar of marinara sauce on the ground to distract him.

I turned toward the shelves again and stared blindly at the sauces. I picked one up and tried to read the label, but I couldn’t see anything beyond the tears swimming in my eyes.

Finally, Nick spoke and I wished more than anything I had just ordered Chinese. “A woman might save him from a heart attack, but she’ll kill him in every other way.” His voice dipped low and I felt the cruel bitterness in my bones.

It was a miracle I didn’t throw the jar of sauce after all-only this time it would have been aimed at his head. I was too angry to look at him, too hurt to breathe. I felt suffocated by his presence, his bitter attitude, his razor sharp tongue. I wanted to abandon my cart and flee, but I couldn’t convince my feet to move.

It was so silly. He hadn’t said anything shocking. It wasn’t like I’d never heard this before.

I was the dream-killer. I was the cold-hearted shrew blinded by rational thought and practicality. I was the reason Nick couldn’t make it.

I was the reason Nick had to give up his dream.

And here we were again. Even though we were separated. Even though Nick was welcome to do whatever he wanted with his life. Even though I couldn’t tell him what to do anymore.

It was still my fault.

“This was stupid,” I spoke in a shaking whisper, one part tremulous tears, the other vibrating anger. “What are we doing?”

Nick leaned in and growled. “I ask myself that every damn day.”

My head snapped up and I tried not to be sick. “I mean in the grocery store. I mean here, right now. What are we doing trying to navigate single life together? Are we stupid?”

His face flushed red and more emotions than I could name ping-ponged through me. I hated myself again. I hated him again.

I just wanted to stop feeling like this.

“We must be,” he admitted. “There’s obviously no other explanation for why we keep doing this to each other.”

I nodded. Even though I felt the same way, it still killed to have him say it aloud. I lifted my chin and bravely told him, “I have a lawyer.” I didn’t. But I wanted one. It was time to stop being a coward.

He took a step back like I had physically hit him. The color immediately drained from his face and I thought for a second he was going to be sick. After an eternal minute where we stared each other down in front of noodles, he gritted out, “Good. That’s good.”

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