Of all the reunion scenarios I’d dreamed up this week, I didn’t foresee this one. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Rob risked everything during our engagement for one night with Ava. How’d I not anticipate Levi finding a willing substitute when we weren’t even dating?
Relief filled me when I saw activity at his house tonight. I’d been so glad to see him on the deck, relaxing peacefully. Without a second thought, I threw myself at him—literally. My body naturally melted into his, but instead of embracing me, he practically pushed me away.
Guess he accomplished his goal of clearing his head. He’s returned to his home and routine lifestyle without looking backward.
Maybe the most shocking thing is feeling as upset now as I felt over Rob. How’s that possible? Rob and I had made a commitment to each other; we were in love. We’d spent almost three years dating, and lived together for one of them. His choice to bed Ava—whether only once, as he claims, or more often, as I suspect—tattered the ties that bound me to him.
I can’t accuse Levi of doing the same. The only ties in place were the ones I created in my own fantasies. My rescue delusions, as Jill would claim. Yet my heart aches as much today as it did months ago in New York.
Levi never lied to me. He never uttered a romantic promise or offered more than friendship with benefits. In fact, even the friendship had been a difficult bridge to cross.
I infringed on his privacy, insisted on helping care for him, and invented a deep connection where none existed. At every turn, Levi warned me off, admitting to a disinterest in close friendships or exclusive romantic entanglements. To top it off, I refused his sexual advances, so how can I blame him for pursuing another woman who’s free to meet him on his terms?
I’m angry with myself, and weary. I didn’t travel across the country looking for love. I came to contemplate my life. But what, of lasting value, have I learned?
I’ve offended my parents, although truthfully, I’ve spent too long allowing their opinions to override my own. I’ve vexed Rob, although I suspect he’s still not been completely honest with me. I’ve quit my job, which isn’t a proud professional moment and, after years of diligent work, probably not my smartest maneuver. The only positive recent development is the child advocacy program. At least that’s genuine. Now that I’ve finished the training, I hope they’ll admit me and assign me my first case soon.
But perhaps I should pursue it in New York. There’s no reason I need to stay in California. I’ve not built any friendships other than my undefined relationship with Levi.
Granted, the distance from my family’s allowed me to discover this passion and enabled me to question compatibility with Rob. Rob. Maybe Rob’s learned from his mistake. If Ava wasn’t his one and only past transgression, will she be his last? He continues to fight for me, unlike Levi, who so quickly retreated and moved on.
Levi. His face is the last thing I picture as I fall asleep.
It’s already breathtaking by six thirty. On my return from my run an hour later, I see Levi standing at his deck railing, surveying the waves.
I fear he’ll push his luck too soon and hop on his surfboard, but I must absent myself from his recovery. Let Shari, or whomever, become the person he relies upon from now on. My immediate dilemma is getting inside without a confrontation. I’m unhappy, but in truth, he didn’t break any promise. I need to grow up.
I wave without smiling. “Good morning, Levi.”
His brows raise and a slight grin stretches across his face. He probably expected me to continue ignoring him, considering my behavior last night.
“Lindsey.” He stiffly grips his deck railing. His mouth opens then closes, as if he wants to say something but can’t.
I hesitate but then nod and progress toward my door.
“Hey, can we talk a minute?” He’s moved closer to my house.
“I don’t want to argue, Levi. I’m not in the mood.”
“That’s unusual.” He smiles. “You love butting heads with me.”
Normally his teasing lightens the tension. Unfortunately, I’m not up for banter. “Well, as you insisted upon the other week, we’ve both had time to clear our heads. I’m glad you’re better, but I have my own recovery to address.” I put my hand on the door to open it.
“Five minutes, please.” His hopeful expression diffuses my resentment. “I have some things to say.”
I almost refuse, but the truth is, I want to talk to him. I don’t know why, since I’m sure to end up unhappy afterward. Perhaps I’m an emotional masochist.