"Hell yeah, I'm scared. You admitted to me last weekend you have to fight off your attraction to me. I can't risk you trying to jump me. I'm a good-looking guy, and you're very athletic. I feel like I need pepper spray when I'm in your presence."
Her nervous laughter echoed in the silence, but she glanced down at her swinging legs.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" She met my stare again.
"Being shy."
She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"You have nothing to be shy about."
"It's simply who I am, Dane. Always been like that, and always will be."
"Well, then maybe that's why we met. Maybe the purpose of you being in the same bar I was that night, and me owning the only company you want to work for, is to enable me to bring you out of your shell. Maybe it's so I can un-shy you."
She laughed and playfully swatted my shoulder. "Oh, yeah? So what's my purpose for you? What's the big reason the universe brought me into your life?"
To make me happy. To make me smile. To make me feel something other than down. To bring me light when the rest of my world is so dark, and to make me feel exactly how I do in this moment.
Of course, I didn't say any of that.
"To make my job easier at work."
"Good answer."
I settled against the wooden railing again, leaning into it with my elbows, and watched the moonlight dance on the horizon. "Where did you go tonight?"
She shrugged and turned her attention away from me, staring off down the empty shoreline. It took her a moment, but when I didn't say anything else, she finally answered me. "A date."
"Oh, another one of your Internet dates?"
"Yeah. But it didn't go well. There definitely won't be a second one." She sighed, her shoulders slouching, and she turned to find me staring at her. "He was an asshole who apparently thought I was easy. When he realized I wouldn't sleep with him, he called me a tease and said I should dress like the prude that I am."
I hated how giddy that confession made me. It shouldn't have, but it did. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Not that this guy was an asshole, but that she didn't give in and wouldn't be seeing him again.
"What's his name? I wanna kick his ass."
"Don't." She waved me off with a gentle smile. "He's not worth it. Trust me. He had a line on his ring finger, too. I'm assuming he's a cheating bastard with a Mrs. waiting for him at home."
My insides grew cold at her words. I knew I hadn't cheated on Gabi-or anyone else-but it didn't stop the guilt from weighing me down. It didn't matter that my lips had never touched hers, or that I kept my hands-and indecent thoughts-to myself. On more than one occasion, I found myself thinking of her, and there were plenty of times I sought her out, craving her company. That was enough to make me feel like a cheating bastard.
"So, how did the appointment go? How was she when you got home?" she asked, effectively changing the subject and dousing more cold water on my already tepid thoughts. I guess she could sense my inner turmoil.
I stared into her eyes and saw her-really saw her, as though I had an open window into her soul. And, God, the view through that frame was stunning. Staring back at me was the most caring person I'd ever been associated with. Someone who genuinely cared to know about me, to talk to me.
And that's when it hit me.
The revelation was monumental.
Eden had been the only person in months-months-to ask me about me. To ask about my day. To ask about important things in my life that truly mattered. No one else had bothered to find out what was going on with me.
"Tell me something about you." I stood up straighter, giving her my undivided attention.
"I take it things didn't go well?"
"There's not much to talk about, so I don't really have much to say. I kind of don't want to get my hopes up. But I don't want to talk about me, Eden. I've done enough of that by telling you all kinds of things I've never shared with anyone else. Now it's time to learn something about you. Tell me something you don't talk about with other people."
Her head shook from side to side and her curls bounced on her bare shoulders. I could no longer look at her tattoo without thinking of the rest that connected to it. The image was ingrained in my head.
"I dated a guy all throughout college. I loved him. I thought we'd get married. But he broke up with me right before school ended. He kept the apartment and all the furniture since it was all his when we moved in together. He took all our friends, because I gave most of mine up when we'd first started dating. I was left with absolutely nothing for the last two weeks of school before I moved here. I came with my clothes and a sleeper sofa I bought at a garage sale on my way down. My parents don't know any of that." She'd unloaded an enormous amount of personal, intimate information as though she was describing the shade of green on the grass. She had to have been profoundly affected by the situation, but she delivered the story as though it was unimportant.
"Why did he break up with you?" It probably wasn't the best question to ask without so much as trying to console her wounded heart, but the question pressed past my lips before I could stop it.
"He couldn't keep it in his pants. The worst part was it wasn't just cheating-he had a full-blown affair. I don't even know how long it went on before he chose her over me. I wish I could say I caught him in the act and chewed his ass out. Or that I at least had the privilege of leaving him instead of the other way around, but I didn't even get that satisfaction. I was literally left with nothing. He kicked me out and the bitch immediately moved in."
I didn't know what to say. I never would have guessed she literally moved here with nothing after that kind of turmoil. She seemed so strong, so sure of herself, I never would have imagined she'd been literally stripped down to nothing.
"Wow. Did he have a reason?"
"Does it matter?"
"What if he wasn't happy? Not saying you made him miserable, because I'm sure you didn't. But what if, for some reason, he wasn't?"
"Then he should've left me before he started seeing her. She knew about me. And you know what? I feel sorry for her. I pity her, because she was with a cheater, while knowing he was a cheater. And from now on, whenever he goes out without her, or comes home late from work, or uses his credit card at a department store, it will cross her mind that he's doing the same to her. If he could cheat on me, then he can cheat on her."
My mind swam with drowning thoughts. She was right-if he wasn't happy, he should've left. I got that. But I also understood being bound by constraints that prevent someone from leaving simply because they're dissatisfied. Sometimes, they stay to protect the other person-to make sure they're safe. Giving up is easy, but it's the hardest thing in the world when you're fearful for the other person's wellbeing, their mental health, their sanity. However, one thing did become painfully clear to me in that moment. I now questioned my reason for staying with Gabi if I was so miserable and had been for quite some time.
I stayed because I couldn't risk her hurting herself.
I sacrificed my happiness for her life.
It wasn't fair to me, but it was the path I chose.
"Are you trying to tell me something, Eden? Is this your subtle way of suggesting I leave Gabi if I'm so miserable?"
"No … not at all. I don't presume to know anything about your relationship, other than what you've shared with me. And even knowing what little you've offered, I have no right to judge or form opinions. You were the one who asked me to tell you something about myself … so I did."
When she cast her gaze toward the ground again, I moved to stand in front of her, putting my finger beneath her chin and forcing her to meet my gaze.
"Stop. Please stop hiding. It's just me."
A small smile appeared on her lips. She reached out and touched my cheek, letting her fingertips linger on my skin until it burned with the heat of an inferno.
I looked right into her eyes, which were hard to see with the sun gone, but that didn't stop them from shining back at me. I wished I knew what she was thinking. What went through her head. I wanted to know all her thoughts, no matter the importance of them.
My forehead dropped to hers-it was unintentional and happened naturally. But she didn't push me away. Instead, she ran her fingers lightly over my beard and closed her eyes.
Our breathing turned erratic and blended together in the small gap separating our mouths. Her panting breaths licked my lips, and it drove me crazy. I found myself in a war between right and wrong. But before I could do or say anything, she whispered the same words that burned the tip of my tongue, "You should go."
It was a douse of cold water on our hot moment, but it was desperately needed. Neither of us willing to make a move, but it was too hard to push away. I knew she felt it, too. I could tell by the way her chest heaved, and the way her hand lingered on my face. She made the right call.