I don’t think he truly knows how hard that decision was for me, to say no. And it shouldn’t have been. It should have been easy to say no, but he’s gotten inside my head. Do I really not love Trey like I loved Aaron? Do I not have the same intense connection with Trey that I had with Aaron? Have? I know every relationship is different, and I’ll always have an attachment to my first love, but is that all my feelings mean? Reminiscing what we used to have?
Because as I stare at him from my living room, my suitcase ready to be packed into my car, my homemade stuffing in a insulated bag, I want to stay and see what a weekend alone with Aaron would be like.
Sighing, I shut my eyes and squeeze them tightly. I wish this could be so much easier. I don’t want to feel anything for him. I want to be over him. I want to be able to breathe when around him, not hold my breath wondering if he’ll kiss me one more time.
I can do this.
I open my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s time to go.
I gather my items and, with a heavy heart, make my way to my car where Aaron is salting the driveway. When he looks at me, his blue eyes pierce through me, the color so vivid, yet the expression devastated when he spots my suitcase.
And just like that, my heart breaks once again. I’m only leaving for the weekend, but it almost feels like I’m leaving forever.
“Thanks for shoveling. It was only a few inches, I would have been fine walking through it.”
He tosses the cup he was using to salt the driveway into the little snow bank to the side and takes off his gloves only to stuff them in his coat pocket. “Better to keep up with the snow in case more comes. It’s easier to shovel two inches than a foot.”
“Are we supposed to get a foot?” My eyes shoot up, wondering if I should make the drive to the city.
He notices my surprise and puts me at ease. “Syracuse and the Finger Lakes are supposed to be hit hard due to the lake effect snow, but we’re good here and the city should be even less. Your drive should be okay. Just take it slow.”
“Okay.”
Stepping forward, his shoulder brushes against me as he takes my suitcase and food from me.
“Unlock your car, I’ll load you up and start it for you so it starts to get warm.”
Why do I want to cry right now? Trying to calm my racing heart, I unlock my car and watch as Aaron starts it and then puts everything in my trunk, making sure to lodge my stuffing into a safe spot so it doesn’t fly around in the trunk.
When he shuts the trunk door, he turns to me and leans against the car. He’s trying to smile but I know that look. He’s not happy. He’s . . . sad.
“All set.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Will you do me a favor, Amelia?”
Nervous as to what he might ask me, I nod hesitantly.
“Will you text me when you get to the city? It will put my mind at ease, knowing you got there safely in this weather. I know you’re not my responsibility, but it will help me sleep better at night.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
You’re not my responsibility. For some reason, that really doesn’t settle well with me.
“Thanks.” He pushes off my car and steps in front of me. My heart catches in my chest when he runs his thumb over my cheek for a brief second before gripping my scarf and carefully wrapping it once around my neck. “Stay safe and warm, Amelia. I’m here if you need anything.”
With his hands still on my scarf, his eyes search mine, something on the tip of his tongue, but instead of saying what’s on his mind, he presses a chaste kiss against my forehead and steps away. He picks up his shovel, the salt cup, and heads toward his garage, never looking back.
Just like the last time he said goodbye, but for some reason, this time it hurts ten times more.
***
Amelia: Made it to the city. Hope you had a nice Thanksgiving.
I’m sitting in my car, tears dried on my cheeks from the long three-hour drive after visiting my father who once again, had a bad day. I spent half an hour with him before I decided to leave. The weather was starting to get bad and my dad failed to make a connection with me. Visits with him are becoming more and more painful. It’s hard, devastating most of the time, hard to leave . . .
And now that I’m in the city, all I want is to be back in Binghamton.
I should be excited, ecstatic, over the moon that I finally get to see Trey again, but instead, my mind is elsewhere.
Trying to put on a happy face, I pull down the visor mirror and check my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot and my makeup is smeared. Trey will know immediately something is wrong. If not from my appearance, he’ll know from my mood.
“Shit,” I mutter, trying to wipe away the blotchy makeup from under my eyes. There’s no use, so I give up and set off toward our apartment, pumpkin pie in one hand—bought from the store—and my suitcase in the other.
The familiar scent of curry hits me when I walk through the entrance of the apartment building. Even on Thanksgiving you can smell it. The smell used to be comforting—part of my home, my daily life—but now it feels weird. Everything feels weird.
When I reach our apartment, I consider knocking. Technically I don’t live here anymore, but Trey will find it odd, so I unlock the door and go in. The hallway is narrow, long, and dark and for a moment, I think Trey isn’t home until his body emerges from the bathroom off the hallway.
“Fucking hell!” he yells, startling me just enough that I jump and lose control of the pie.
Crash.
I stare at the pie, the rather smushed and smashed pie. That can no longer be eaten. Crap.
“Shit, I’m sorry. You scared me.” Trey pulls me into his chest and cups the back of my head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were this close or I would’ve helped you up the stairs.”
“I dropped the pie,” I say meekly, trying to pass the pie off as the reason I’m crying.
“It’s okay. I scared you.” He chuckles lightly. “We kind of scared each other there, guess being apart for so long will do that to each other.” He kisses my forehead. “But I’m glad you’re here. Hell, it feels so good to have you here again.”
His voice is soothing. His body is warm. His arms are comforting.
“We don’t have dessert now.”
“Amelia.” He lifts my face from his chest to look me in the eye, and when he studies me, his brow pulls together. He reaches over to the wall and flips on the hallway light, casting a glow on my emotional state. “What’s wrong?” It’s a simple question that holds a lot of weight.
My throat closes tight, making it almost impossible to speak. “The pie,” I answer idiotically. He doesn’t buy it.
Leaving the pie and my bag behind, he takes my hand and guides me into the bedroom where I’m reminded of the little cocoon we used to share. Flashbacks of all the fun we’ve had in this apartment, all the dinners we made, all the lovemaking, flood my mind. This was my solace, my home, so how can it now feel cold like I’m only a visitor?
Trey forces me to sit on the bed. He takes off my shoes and lays me down only to join me. It’s a position I used to be so familiar with, a position where we’ve had some of our deepest conversations. And from the look of it, we’re about to have another.