Chapter 31

THIRTY-ONE

I sit.

And I wait.

Calmly.

Patiently.

It’s good practice, I think.

He might not show.

I sent him one single message to ask him to come here.

One last message.

He might not have gotten it.

I’ve cycled through all the possibilities in my head over and over again. I’ve come to terms with every outcome, so by now, I’m calm. Not angry anymore. Not drowning in a sea of desperation. Treading water again, I suppose is the right way to describe what’s going on inside me.

It’s late. And hot. The air is muggy, the day’s heat trapped in concrete and wafting out now that night has fallen all around me.

He might not show.

But I think he will.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. New York is never quiet. Cars honk in the distance. Occasionally people pass by. Sirens blare somewhere. There’s life everywhere. It’s one of the reasons I like it here so much. Chaotic, dirty, grimy, occasionally smelly, but also alive and thriving.

It’s home.

I keep my eyes closed even though there are footsteps approaching now. I analyze the sounds his feet make. Hurried? Hesitant? Annoyed?

And then there’s silence.

I open my eyes. They greedily move up from his feet. Calves. Thighs. Stomach. Chest. Shoulders. Neck. Face.

Sutton.

My Sutton.

He sits down next to me on the steps, elbows on knees, eyes on me, equally greedy.

This is Sutton, who loves Wren.

This is Wren, who loves Sutton.

It should be so easy.

But it’s not. Not anymore.

A part of me misses the easy.

But this right here? It might not be easy, but it’s real. So in the grand scheme of things, it’s better.

Not easy.

But real.

We’re both silent for a long time, in our own little world in the middle of millions of people.

I wish I could keep him.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he says back, eyes still on me. I don’t think he even blinks.

His gaze is full of yearning.

I can see it.

I can feel it.

Then again, him wanting me was never the problem.

He does.

Has.

For a while now.

It’s keeping me that’s causing the issues. I rest my hands on top of the stairs. The warm concrete seems to somehow settle and steady me.

“Thank you for coming,” I say.

He nods haltingly.

“There’s something I need to say,” I continue. “And I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

He doesn’t respond in any way, but he’s not running either, so I’ll take that as encouragement.

“I want to have a life with you,” I say.

He sucks in a breath. His lips part.

I barrel on.

“I want to come home to you every night. I want to make you chicken taco salad for dinner because it’s one of the few things I know how to cook, so if we ever divide dinner duty, you’d be having that a lot.”

He stares at me wordlessly.

I shrug. “Just a fair warning.” I swallow and continue. “I want to go grocery shopping with you and watch movies. I want to argue about who’ll have to put fresh sheets on the bed on Saturdays and then do it together. I want to go swimming with you and eat lunch with you. I want to get a Christmas tree together, and take road trips, and travel. I’ll go to boring work events with you and make you laugh. And maybe we could get a dog. Unless you’re allergic.”

My chest feels tight, like there’s not enough room to breathe. Like my lungs have been gripped in a vice.

“But mostly, I just want to love you, and I know it’s not what you wanted, and I know it’s inconvenient, but I do, and I don’t expect you to change your mind or do anything at all with this. I just… I just needed to say it. One last time.”

Sutton licks his lips and swallows hard. Everything he does seems to happen in slow motion in my fuzzy brain.

I inhale, and the painfully familiar scent of his aftershave tickles my nose. This might be the last time I get to smell him.

I focus my eyes on him and take him in greedily.

This, too, might be the last time.

The longer he stays silent, the more it starts to sink in that this really is it.

That I wish things were different, but I can’t change them.

That these are the dying breaths of us .

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Sutton whispers.

“I know.” I finally look away. I don’t think I have it in me to record the eyewitness account of the end of us live.

I close my eyes instead.

“I understand,” I say softly. “It’s fine.” I choke the words out. It’s not fine. It’s not . And it’s not fair. And I’m not fine. And it feels like maybe I never will be after tonight.

“I understand,” I whisper.

And then I get up.

“It’s fine,” I say again.

Even if it’s not.

“I’m gonna go,” I say.

I’ll wait. I promise, I’ll wait for you. Please come back to me. I will be here.

All those words circle through my head.

I’ll keep them locked inside me.

I brave one more look at him. His head is down, fingertips digging into the back of his neck.

He doesn’t look at me.

It’s probably better like this.

I turn around.

Square my shoulders.

Force myself to move.

Out the gate.

To the street.

I don’t look back.

Just numbly keep moving my feet.

I can’t go back.

One of us has to have his shit together.

My ears are ringing and my heart is beating too loudly.

So I miss them.

The footsteps.

There had to have been footsteps, and louds one, based on how much force he barrels into me with from behind.

Sutton’s arms wrap around me.

I freeze in place, because I wouldn’t put it past myself right now to imagine him and this moment. My heartbeat hammers in my ears, and I stand very still. He leans his forehead against the back of my head, and I curl my fingers around the arm that’s wrapped around my chest.

Just for a moment.

Before I slowly turn around.

He wraps himself around me again, and I hesitate for a millisecond because this has the potential to hurt, before I give in and hug him back.

“Don’t let me let you go,” he rasps into my ear.

I close my eyes.

Grit my teeth.

“Sutt,” I breathe out. With hope. So much hope. I’m all hope.

“Please,” he says. “Please. I don’t know how to handle this. I’m fucking scared to death. So, please. Please, don’t let me let you go,” he chokes out. His fingertips dig into my shoulder blades. His lips move against the shell of my ear.

“Okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay.” I hug him tighter. Kiss his cheek and his ear and his eye and the dark blond strands of his hair. Kiss him everywhere I can reach.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say fiercely, hugging him tighter. “I promise.”