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“Will do,” he says.
She moves to leave, giving us both a polite wave. “You two have a good day,” she says before turning away. Her eyes cascade over my face for a moment too long.
She reminds me of a wolf or a fox using intimidation as a hunting tactic.
Luke and I don’t say anything for a while as if it’s not safe. It’s not until we get in the car that I turn to him and say, “You should go.”
He glances my way with his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that you should go out with her for New Year’s.”
“Why would I do that?” he asks.
“Because,” I reply, “for one, it would ease some suspicion off you and me. I can’t help but feel as if, if you don’t go, she’s going to assume that you and I have more than a roommate relationship. But if you do go and, I don’t know, flirt with her a little, maybe even kiss her at midnight, then maybe she’ll be convinced that there’s nothing going on between us.”
His hand squeezes the steering wheel as if he’s uncomfortable. “I don’t want to go,” he says in that cool, demanding tone of his.
I cross my arms over my chest and turn away. He senses the change in my tone. When we get back home and unload the groceries, he keeps eyeing me as if to watch my behavior. It makes me feel like a petulant child, but right now I am being a petulant child because I’m frustrated and I’m angry and I’m not getting what I want.
Turning toward me, his demeanor changes as he takes on that dominant, disciplinarian tone. “Miss Green,” he says in warning, “why are you pouting?”
“I don’t want to do this right now,” I mutter as I turn away from him. He grabs my arm to pull me toward him. “Luke,” I say.
I purposefully address him as Luke instead of Dr. Goode to identify that I’m not in the mood to play.
“I’m serious,” I say, my tone biting. “You should go out with her.”
“What is this about?” he asks as his expression softens.
“What are we? What are we doing? You say that you want to spend New Year’s with me, and we have sex and we grocery shop together. And it’s like we have this relationship, but we’re not in a relationship.
“And you’re about to leave, and I’m about to have a baby, and everything we’re doing has this expiration date. And I don’t understand. I like it, but at the same time, I don’t like it. And?—”
“Okay, okay, okay, calm down,” he says, putting his hands on my arms. Immediately, I push him away.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
He looks remorseful as he drops his hands by his sides and steps away. “Sadie, there’s a reason that we are not in a relationship. And that’s because I can’t be in a relationship. I am not good at this. I don’t know how to tell you what you want to hear. I don’t know how to give you what you want. I cannot be the man that you want me to be. So, yes, we are just having fun.
“And I’ll be honest, I don’t know what we’re doing either, but I know that I like it. But if you don’t, then we can stop.”
I don’t want to stop.
But I don’t say it out loud. What is the point? He’s right. We have no future. Even if he wasn’t leaving, Luke doesn’t want a wife or a child. He can never give me what I want.
“I think you should go out with her,” I say, my tone defeated and exhausted.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’ll be fine,” I reply.
None of this feels right. I hate the look on his face. The sadness in his mannerisms. I miss the us we were before this fight. This…indescribable, uncategorizable version of a relationship that isn’t labeled or serious, but just us.
With that, I walk away, and I feel his eyes on me as I go.
When the night of New Year’s Eve rolls around, I watch Luke get dressed. I smell his cologne wafting from his bedroom. And as much as it hurts, I know this is the right thing.
As he walks out into the living room in a pair of tight black pants and a gray button-down shirt, looking so good, I consider changing my mind on this entire thing. Maybe I should tell him to stay.
