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Chapter 18
For the first time since Ali came home, Cornell was awake before her. Ali quickly climbed out of bed, hurrying to get ready. She could hear Cornell puttering in the kitchen as she changed into leggings and a sports bra, zipping up a hoodie when she left the bedroom.
“Waffles,” Cornell called out. “And unlike your brownies, Betty Crocker, they’re from scratch.”
He’s trying, Ali said to herself. He’s trying to fake it. That’s what you want, isn’t it? This is exactly how Saturday morning would be if nothing ever happened. But Cornell making breakfast and cracking jokes—his effort at trying to make things normal after last night had turned sour instantly—didn’t bring Ali any reprieve. It only brought frustration. He shouldn’t have to try. It should just be like this.
Mowgli excitedly nudged against her waist. “Thanks, but I don’t want to eat before yoga.”
Ali watched Cornell facing away from her. There was just the slightest drop of his shoulders, and she could see how his body expanded as he drew a heavy breath.
The sight kicked the frustration to the side and caused her heart to ache.
“Come on. Go halfsies with me,” Cornell said, turning with a plate.
Ali reached for a travel mug and filled it. “I can’t work out on a full stomach. This is my first class in forever. It’s going to be hard enough as it is.” She kept her eyes low, trying to avoid Cornell’s gaze that was still fixed on her—she could feel it, his begging and pleading for her to look at him. “I’m meeting Tara for lunch after, so I’ll eat then.”
She returned the carafe and went to leave, but Cornell reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Ali, I’m sorry about—”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Ali said, glancing up at him. “Nothing happened.” Literally, nothing. “I’ll see you later.”
“Can we talk about it?” Cornell asked, an uncomfortable, torturous look spreading across his face that only made Ali feel worse. “Please, I just want—”
“It’s fine, Cornell. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”
Because it didn’t. I needed it so bad, and I messed it up. I never should’ve told you anything about what you can and cannot do. Because that’s not who I am, who we are. Ali wanted to collapse into a pool of tears. We’re part of the same, she wanted to scream, even though we’re two bodies, two names, we’re one fucking soul, and if I can’t have you, it’s like he’s taken another thing from me. The most important thing—my something.
All Ali had been craving was Cornell—the feel of him against her, inside her, all the feelings he evoked within and outside her body. There was pleasure in his touch, of course, pleasure she never dreamed existed before him. But like everything with him, there was more—love, safety, certainty, promises. And as they tiptoed around each other in the weeks since she arrived home, Ali was desperate for more assurance from him in every way, but especially how they showed each other best.
For a small part of the night, it felt exactly how it should be between them—fun and flirty, light and easy, effortless. There had been laughter and teasing. The longer she thought about that, the more painful the end of the night seemed and the more guilty she felt for even associating Cornell with what Graham did when she spoke up, unsure of what might happen.
I don’t know if I would’ve freaked out. I just didn’t want to risk it.
Ali wanted to stay lost in a sea of sensation and movement—his smell, the way his hands held onto her fervently and desperately, touching her like he couldn’t get enough at once. But her words quickly pulled the plug on that sea, and the flood of goodness disappeared, leaving them standing beside each other but still so far apart.
“Look, I just want to say it’s not you.”
Ali’s eyes flew to his, and she had to fight the heat that threatened to overtake the words she couldn’t stop from leaving her mouth. “Don’t feed me bullshit. You never have before, and I don’t need to add it to the list of everything that’s changed, okay?” She pushed her lips together as Cornell stood there, mouth agape. “I’ll see you later.”
She was out the door and in her car quickly, afraid if she lingered another moment, the tears would come, and neither of them needed another reminder—a slap in the face—of just how far apart they were, even under the same roof, in the same bed. Instead, Ali gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove down their street, out of their neighborhood, and made her way to the yoga studio she used to frequent before she had been broken right in the middle.
But instead of going inside to class, Ali sat in the car, staring straight ahead, desperate to understand why it was fair that given all Graham took that night, he had to keep taking even when he was no longer around.
Work. Ali thought of how much her office had changed and grown quieter because she kept the door closed to protect herself.
Cornell. He’s going to take him from me too.
A sting pierced her chest, and Ali lifted her hand to her neck, searching for the necklace, something to hold on to, something to remind her that not too long ago, there was no distance, no quiet, awkward conversation. There were touches laden with passion and love and not hesitancy. There was the way Cornell looked at Ali like she was the most special person in the world and not the most damaged.
As the silent tears dripped angrily down her face and into her lap, Ali wondered if there would even be anything left of her for Cornell to hold on to.
* * *
“Ali? Earth to Ali.”
“Sorry,” Ali muttered, sipping her iced tea. “What did you say?”
