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I sigh, shaking my head. “No, Inez. I’m going to miss you…You.”
Her swaying pauses. She searches my eyes. “Do you…do you want me to stay?”
“Fuck,” I groan. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to stand in your way. I just…”
A loud silence suddenly fills the empty bar as we stare into each other’s eyes. My finger starts moving on its own, tracing letters across her hipbone. At first, I don’t even realize what I’m doing.
I…L…O…V…E…Y…O…U…I…L…O…V…E…Y…O…U…I…L…O…V…E…Y…O…U…
I want to say the words so bad. I’d give anything for the courage to just say them. But at this point, what would it accomplish? More harm than good, that’s for sure.
It doesn’t matter that I love her, it doesn’t matter that I want her. As the man who’s crazy for her, who wants the best for her, I refuse to cockblock her success.
She stares up at me with wide, watery eyes. “Say it…Say the words to me…”
Fuck. I groan again. “I…”
I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
It would be so fucking selfish if I did.
“Nolan, please…” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I stroke her cheek. “We can’t do—”
She reaches up on her toes, silencing me with a searing hot kiss. “Don't tell me the politically correct answer. Can you just be selfish for once? Instead of worrying about everyone else and what they need, can you just think about yourself for once?”
I cringe. She knows me too well.
And I know her, too. I know that she’s been craving those three little words ever since she was a child. I also know that if I say them, she’ll change her plans, she’ll rearrange her whole life for me.
I can’t do that.
“Inez, I won’t be the one to come between you and your dreams.”
Internally, my head is churning. Once upon a time, I tried to get in the way of my ex-wife’s dreams, and look how that nonsense turned out. I’m not setting myself up for disappointment again. I’m not going to sabotage Inez, either. No matter how much it’s going to hurt me later.
It’s not fair to either of us.
Inez exhales, stepping back with a sad smile. “We should go…”Her words hang in the air as though she doesn’t know how to refer to my house.
“…Home,” I finish for her, lacing my fingers through hers. “We should go home.”
Where she belongs. With me and Stella. For now, at least.
42
INEZ
I’m actively fighting the urge to break out into song and dance.
It’s late on Saturday evening but the sun is still bright overhead. A Bob Marley tune booms from the speakers, washing over the cheerful crowd at The Festival for Amateur Artists.
The breeze is perfect. The vibe is perfect. The fingers interlaced with mine? Perfect.
In one hand, I’ve got a beer in a plastic cup and my other hand is locked with Nolan’s as we stroll through the crowd. He and I made our best efforts at painting and drawing earlier, but none of it turned out too well.
