We’d always make love with the lights off.
Neither of us chose that, but it always worked out that way.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Warren, I’m sorry.”
He turns to me, his gaze leveling on my face. I see a tremor in the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry too.”
I’d tell him that he has nothing to be sorry for, but I can’t. He may not have run from the church in a rush to get away from me, but he wasn’t always there for me in the days and months leading up to the ceremony.
He always promised that we’d talk about that, but we never did.
“Lydia,” he says her name and then nothing.
Silence sits between us like a weighted blanket, but it offers no comfort at all.
“Is there something…” my voice trails.
His eyes find mine. “I don’t know. She’s a good friend, but I don’t know.”
Our vow to be honest with one another got buried under life’s messes. He once lied about not being able to join me on a photography shoot because he had a headache. He was actually at the bar with his colleagues.
He confessed that to me the next night.
I told him I couldn’t make it to the wedding of one of his cousins in San Francisco last summer because I had to stay in Manhattan to help my dad paint his home office.
My dad shot that down when he called Warren to ask him to join him for a round of golf just as the ceremony was starting. Joel was the only one who knew Warren was out of town and that I had deliberately made up an excuse that would keep me in Manhattan.
“Joel told me you don’t know the guy who objected.” Warren rubs a hand over his chin. “So you just took off with a stranger, Afton?”
Nodding, I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I wasn’t sure, and when he came into the church, I saw it as a sign.”
“A sign that you didn’t love me?” His voice cracks.
“No.” I shake my head in earnest. “I did love you.”
It’s true. It may never have been the kind of all-encompassing love that is the foundation for a lifetime of making memories, raising children, and sharing our deepest dreams and fears, but it was love.
“I loved you too,” he says under his breath. “Maybe more as a friend.”
I close my eyes at the rush of relief that hits me. “As a friend.”
“I wanted to take care of you,” he confesses. “When we met, you were lost. You were this beautiful little lost soul.”
I was sixteen and unsure of the world or my place in it.
“You’re not lost anymore.” He drops his gaze to the floor. “You’ve made a life for yourself. I thought I’d be a part of it, but maybe…”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” I finish his sentence because I know him.
I know how Warren thinks. I know his catchphrases and his coffee order. I know that he prefers to sit so he’s facing the kitchen when he eats at a restaurant. He only wears black socks and goes to the same barber the first Wednesday of every month. He’s done that since he was a little boy.
“I was mad at you, Afton,” he says, his voice stiff.
I stand my ground because I deserve every emotion he needs to toss at me. “I know.”
“I’m not mad anymore.”
“What are you?” I ask tentatively.
“Sad.” His gaze trails to the right. “I’m sad that you didn’t talk to me about your reservations before that day. I’m sad that I didn’t talk to you about mine.”
Tears threaten, but I swallow them back. “I’m sad too.”
My sorrow isn’t grounded in what might have been between us but what was.
We weren’t right for each other, but our history kept us together.
“There are some things at my apartment.” He clears his throat. “Your things. Joel offered to pick them up tomorrow.”
Joel to the rescue again.
I make a mental note to give him an extra-long hug to thank him.
“Will you be okay?” Warren asks, stepping closer to me. “I know your parents aren’t happy. Your dad was livid at the church. They pre-paid for the reception, and it wasn’t cheap. There’s the honeymoon too.”
My parents footed the bill for the entire thing. I’ll repay them every cent. I know they’ll refuse, but I need to do it for my self-preservation.
“I’ll talk things through with them.”
He nods briskly. “I guess this is goodbye.”
It feels as though there’s so much more to say, but the words aren’t there.
“I want you to be happy,” I say with a broken voice. “I hope you will be.”
His hand darts to my face to run a finger over my cheek to chase away the single tear that has fallen. “I want that for you too.”
He means it. I see it in his eyes.