“I don’t need all of you in that way,” I said, wiping my eyes. God, was he not listening? “I don’t need all your time or attention or love. But I want to see all of you. I want to know all of you. I want to love all of you. Why won’t you let me?”
“I don’t know, OK? I don’t fucking know!” He shook his head, his eyes closing. “I knew it. I knew I couldn’t do this right. I told you I was bad at balance.”
“You don’t need better balance!” I threw my hands up. “Don’t you understand? You need to stop being one person over here and another over there! You only need to be one man, one whole man, and realize that you have enough love for both of us! It’s not a zero-sum game!”
He struggled for words and retreated back into self-doubt. “Jillian, I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman, but I don’t know how to do what you’re asking. I knew I’d be a disappointment to you. I’ve always said you deserve more than I could give you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t deserve more than you can give me, Levi. I deserve more than you’re willing to give me. And you know what? A few months ago, maybe I’d have been content to live like this, loving you from the outside. Looking in. But you gave me a taste of what it feels like to feel worthy of being loved, to feel like I’m enough. I want more of that.”
He sighed, his dark eyes sad, but his chin rising stubbornly. “So that’s it? You’re walking away?”
My throat closed as his walls went up. “If I have to. Let me in, Levi. Let me in, or let me go.”
His breath left him in an angry huff. “I always knew you would go.”
I crossed my arms and called his bluff. “Are you forcing me to leave now because you’re afraid I’ll leave later?” And then it dawned on me, the source of the fear. God, how had I not seen it sooner? “I’m not Tara, Levi. Stop letting fear of the future and guilt from the past prevent you from being happy. You’ve done it long enough!”
He reacted as if I’d slapped him, his eyes blazing with anger, his lips compressing to a thin line, his back snapping straight—and I knew I’d touched a nerve. Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Say something!” I yelled, my heart hammering. I’m losing him. I’m losing him.
But he said nothing. He backed away from me, grabbed his jacket from the back of the stool, and took off down the stairs.
A few seconds later, I heard my front door slam.
“Fuck you, you coward!” I screamed, my hands squeezing into fists too. I stood there seething for a moment, then burst into tears, weeping into my hands while I leaned against the breakfast counter for support, right next to the framed picture of my sisters and me that he’d given me for my birthday.
How had they done it? How had they figured love out and made it work? Had I fucked up? Should I have been more understanding? More patient? More flexible?
I ran down the stairs to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed, sobbing into my pillow for an hour. When I was completely cried out, I blew my nose and put drops in my eyes. Then I picked up my phone and called Skylar.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Are you busy?”
“Jillian? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
I took a shaky breath. “I’m at home. But I need to talk.”
“Let me call you right back.”
We hung up and I called Natalie. “Can I come over?” I asked her.
“Of course! Are you OK?”
“No. I’ll be there in ten.”
By the time Skylar called me back, I was on my way out the door. “I had to check with Mia and see if I could get off a little early,” she said breathlessly, as if she were hurrying somewhere on foot. “She said it was fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Go to Natalie’s house,” I told her. “I need you both right now.”
“Done. I’ll see you there.”
I hung up, taking measured deep breaths and telling myself I would be OK, even if I lost Levi.
I still had family. I still had love.
On the ten-minute drive to Natalie and Miles’s adorable house, complete with white picket fence, a nursery upstairs, and a sign hanging on the front door that said Love Lives Here, I kept telling myself I’d done the right thing. I’d fought back tears the whole time, but as soon as I saw that fucking sign, I lost it. Natalie opened the door to find me wailing on her porch, and she opened her arms.
I went into them, crying into her shoulder like I was the baby sister needing comfort for once. Miles appeared and shut the door behind me, then rubbed my back. “How about a drink, Jilly?”
“OK.” I sniffed, picking up my head. “Got any whiskey?”
“I sure do. On the rocks?”
“Perfect.” I sighed, my shoulders releasing some tension. “I need a tissue.”
We filed into the kitchen, which smelled delicious, like when my mom used to make homemade chicken potpie. It was a smell that reminded me of home, of family, of happiness. Would I ever have those things? I blew my nose, willing myself not to start crying over fucking chicken potpie.
Miles brought me the whiskey a moment later, and Natalie rubbed my shoulder. “You look terrible. Your eyes are all puffy.”
“I know. I feel terrible.”
“Should we go into the family room?”