“You don’t have baggage.”
“Come on, Bear,” she says. “I’ve had a miscarriage, been gang-raped, fucked over my closest friends under the guise of self-therapy, and I’ve lied to even those I love more than anyone in the world just to save myself the pain of telling the truth.”
Her eyes find mine with those last words, and I feel the full weight of them — the full weight of everything that’s happened between us.
“Sorry for putting it all so bluntly,” she continues. “But therapy has really helped me see that running from my past, or hiding it, or lying to myself or anyone else about it doesn’t do anything but hurt me. So, I’m embracing it. All of it. It’s all led me here, and… all things considered?” I smile. “I’m pretty happy.”
“I’m glad you’re in therapy,” I say earnestly. “And I’m glad it’s helping. But… I still don’t understand how you could scare Gavin. Isn’t he in therapy, too?”
“I think everyone should be in therapy,” she says with a laugh, and I have to chug half my beer to keep myself from boiling over at the memory of the fight Gavin and I had over this same topic at Friendsgiving.
Purely because I was pissed when I saw him there with Erin, if I were being honest with myself.
“I just… I might have rushed some things between us…” She bites her lip, shaking her head. “I feel weird talking about this with you.”
“Why?” I reach over, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Come on, Ex. It’s me. You don’t have to feel weird or sugarcoat anything.”
“I know, but…”
“Just spill it.”
She chuckles. “Alright… well, on Valentine’s Day, I wanted to… um… to go all the way with him.”
Her cheeks flush so furiously that I chuckle a bit despite the way my stomach bottoms out at her admission.
“But he stopped us. And really, he had good reason. He’s being respectful to what I’ve been through, and he knows I haven’t… um… you know… with anyone else… since…” She waves her hand around. “Anyway, so he stopped it, and we cuddled and everything, and I felt fine when I left the next morning. But ever since then, he’s been distant. I mean, I haven’t seen him for more than a mid-day lunch.”
God, I want to punch him.
I want to literally find him and knock him the fuck out.
But then again, I kind of want to shake his hand and thank him.
Because although I don’t like the thought of him so much as laying a finger on Erin, I respect the hell out of him for taking things slow. Even when Erin said she was ready, he knew she wasn’t.
I still hate him, but I’m thankful to him at least for that much.
I force a breath, taking a sip of my beer before I say, “Well, I know it hurts to be rejected like that. Even if it was for good reason. And I don’t like that he’s being kind of distant, but it might be that he has something else going on, something entirely unrelated.”
“He has been really busy with school,” she admits. “It’s his last semester in the graduate program.”
“I’m sure that’s very intense.”
She sighs and nods, but I can see the hurt on her face as she takes a sip of her beer.
“Erin, look at me.”
For the longest time, she keeps her eyes on her glass, but then those warm brown irises finally find mine.
“Gavin is a good guy,” I say, even as my chest tightens with the words. “He cares about you. I could see that much after just one hour at Friendsgiving, and I saw it again when I ran into you downtown. And as much as I know it hurt, I’m glad he turned you down.”
Erin laughs a little, though her eyebrows pinch together. “Well, that’s kind of harsh.”
“No, no,” I say with a laugh of my own. I reach over to grab her hand, folding her fingers over mine. “I just mean that he’s right. You have been through a lot, and I think taking it slow is the best move for both of you. The fact that he gives a shit about you enough to put your emotional well-being ahead of his hormones is pretty fucking impressive, honestly. Because he’s a man, Erin, and being one myself, I can tell you it took a lot of willpower to stop in that moment.” I pause, swallowing. “Especially because you are the most goddamn beautiful woman who has ever existed.”
Erin’s expression softens at that, and her eyes flick back and forth between mine. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I do,” I say, throat tight. “And the craziest thing is that as stunning as you are, your beauty is the least interesting thing about you.”
Her eyes flood with tears, but they don’t fall, not even when her hand squeezes mine.