Ruthless In A Suit(11)

“It means I can stay up all night at the easel, and no one’s there to give me shit,” she says, and I can just imagine her hands and cheeks streaked with paint, working as the sun rises over the Atlantic.

“Between Oliver and Logan and Julia always around, I’m rarely alone these days,” I say. I’m shocked to realize the truth of it. That after she left me, my life suddenly got bigger. Before Cadence, I’d managed to isolate myself almost entirely, both in the office and outside of it. Maybe it was that she’d left a hole I knew I had to fill. Whatever it is, I’m thankful for it, and it’s just another reason I have to be grateful to her for precipitating the change. Even though I’ve been barely three steps above miserable since she left, I can’t help but admit that my life has gotten exponentially better than it was before she ever arrived.

We finish the meal with a shared slice of tiramisu; our chairs slid closer, our heads bowed over the rich, sweet cake. All trace of her anger, my misery, or our shared awkwardness seems to have faded away. I have no idea what comes next, but I feel like we’re off to a very good start.

When the waitress brings the check, we both reach for it. “Please,” I say, pulling it away from her. “I asked you out, so let me pay.”

She narrows her eyes at me with a devious grin, but finally acquiesces. “Fine,” she says with a carefree shrug. “That seems fair.”

I pay the bill, and we make our way out into the autumn evening, which has grown considerably colder since we went into the restaurant. Next to me, Cadence shivers and pulls her jacket around her. Without thinking, I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side to keep he warm. I feel her tense, just for a moment, but then her body seems to unwind and melt against me. It feels familiar in the kind of way that also stings, like rubbing alcohol poured on a wound you’re trying to heal. It’s helping, but it hurts along the way.

We get to the car, and again I open the passenger door for her. I hate to let her go so she can get in, but I have to. We can’t stand out on the street all night, as much as I’d like to.

And so I climb into the front seat, the question I want to ask on the tip of my tongue, but I’m far too afraid of the answer. Instead, I start the car and start towards her apartment. Because I can’t ask for more than what we’ve had tonight. I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it. I should simply bid her goodnight and hope she’ll see me again.

I’m halfway down the block when she reaches over and places her hand on my knee, her thumb stroking absentmindedly across my thigh.

I turn to see her looking over at me.

“Maybe back to your place?” she says.

She doesn’t have to ask twice. I pause only to pull out my phone and shoot a text to Logan and Julia.



Coming home. GET. OUT.





CADENCE



I don’t know what possesses me to say it.

I know it’s exactly the wrong move. But then I have to ask myself, what is the right move exactly?

What am I trying to do? Am I trying to play games with him? Do I want to punish him? Or do I want to be happy? Because at this moment, nothing in the world would make me happier than going back to Levi’s place.

I spent so long broken to pieces over the fact that I’d given myself to him, only to find out that our relationship was built on the worst kind of lie. I trusted him, and he shattered that trust beyond what should be able to be repaired.

But once the initial pain of it wore off, I was left with emptiness: over the loss of him, the future I saw, and also the way he made me feel. Literally, I missed the things he did to my body. I’d never experienced anything like it, and I was worried I never would again.

Over the course of our date, which started a little rocky but quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, I realized that even though the premise of a first date was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard, it was working.

Sure, we’d already been engaged. We’d had sex – and lots of it. But in sitting at the counter and devouring plates of the best Italian food I’d ever eaten, I was realizing that I never really knew Levi.

Probably because he never really knew himself.

As we talked, I realized that I’d already forgiven him. It was easy to see that he’d suffered, and that he’d changed. He was a different man, and it was clear that this new Levi would never do what the old Levi had done. But it was also clear that while I may have forgiven him, he hadn’t forgiven himself. And I’m not sure he ever would, unless I convinced him that he should.

And so, as we started down Congress Street, clearly heading for the Longfellow Bridge and my apartment in Somerville, I knew I had to do something to show him, to convince him that I understand what he’s been through.