I shake my head in answer and frustration that Tori never told me.
“We hung out a lot and I forced myself not to ask about you. Then, one day out of the blue, when I finally thought I was over you, she told me what happened with Maria. I wanted to be there to help you pick up the pieces, but I knew you needed time. And then it was how much time? How long does one wait? One month blended into the next and then the next, but it never seemed to be enough. I never told Tori how I felt, but it’s like she knew. When she found out I was moving, she told me it was time to quit avoiding you. She convinced me to come here and tell you how I feel. So I’m here and I love you and I feel like an idiot because I can’t stop talking and you’re not saying anything.”
I loathe her waiting all this time for me and the hope in her gaze makes my insides crumble.
“You’re not an idiot.” I feel a smile form, but it disappears quickly. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to be with anyone.” I keep from adding especially not with a woman who has the power to destroy the walls I’ve created to protect me.
I stare out into the street until her warm hand pulls my face, forcing me to look at her. “Take a risk?” she says as a question and waits.
Neither of us speaks for a while as I watch a tumbleweed roll along the grass in the wind until it disappears down the street. I tilt my head back, looking at the solitary cloud above my head and remember my mother killing herself. I knew most of what Sheila had done and I took a risk staying quiet, assuming it was best for all of us.
The tall weeds in the field across the street rustle in the breeze as I recall Andrew helpless on the ground after he was struck by a car. He almost died because I took a risk and fell in love with his mother. I glance at Peyton and see Maria as any hope I feel dissolves to nothing. When I couldn’t let Maria go, I risked her life and I lost it all.
Peyton once said she was waiting for a man who deserved her and that man isn’t me.
I fail everyone I ever choose to love.
I always choose wrong.
I wait what feels like an eternity, staring at brown eyes, richly colored like coffee but without the warmth. Cold and stagnant and devoid of emotion, his expression doesn’t change. I lower my head, prepared to accept he died right along with Maria and that I cannot compete with a dead girl, when he inhales.
“I can’t think when you look at me like that,” he says as his thumb traces my lips.
“Like what?”
“Like you’d love me even if I could never love you back. Like you could forgive me for hurting you.” A small smile curves the side of his mouth, that smirk I’ve come to love and hate. “Like you’re okay?”
My smile grows, remembering how much my being ‘okay’ annoyed him, but his fond expression of the memory is what truly warms my spirit. It’s the window of opportunity I need to convince him the past is behind us and our love is strong enough to build a future. That even if he doesn’t know it, he could grow to love me.
“I am okay and I do forgive you . . . and as far as loving you, I don’t have a choice.”
“A risk?” I nod, smiling as his head dips and inches closer to mine. My eyes close and I inhale in anticipation of the kiss I’ve waited months for. His warm breath skates across my lips before I feel his mouth on mine. He kisses me ever so softly before he says, “I can’t, Peyton.”
My heart deflates as I turn my head, removing his kiss with my hand. The truth is, I lost Aidan to Maria and while she may be gone, she took the man I love with her.
“Okay.” I shrug, fighting the ache in my chest that makes me want to break down in tears and show him that I’ll never be okay.
His laugh doesn’t gel with his woeful expression. I make him happy, I know I do. It’s his stubborn heart, though that’s leading the way, and it belongs to a woman who will never let it go. It’s bound to her with such strong contrition; Aidan will never be able to love again. I never stood a chance.
Javier and I enter the movie theater with a bunch of his friends and my family to celebrate his eighth birthday. I rented the entire theater for the occasion. It’s one of the new styles with tables and recliners throughout, where you order food off a menu and the staff brings it to your table. Javier and his friends immediately fill a table in the front, far from the adults who hang out near the back.
I feel completely out of place as Tori and Brady dote over Little A, who’s strapped to the table with some sort of modern torture device. He shoves cheese balls up his nose and Tori smacks Brady for encouraging the little guy. He in return smacks her on the ass and kisses her.
I want what they have. I’ve always wanted the love they share. I used to believe it was Tori I wanted, but it’s the unwavering love for each other I crave. Someone I can playfully smack on the ass and raise kids with. Someone by my side at my son’s birthday party. If I wasn’t so ridiculously stubborn, I could have it. Instead, I let Peyton slip away, because when I get right to the root of it . . . I am a coward. I’m a chickenshit. I’m afraid of failing . . . of succeeding, and of living. Because each day presents a new set of problems and I’m too scared to ask anyone to face them with me.
The kids eat as Brady and I lean against the wall observing them. You can already tell what kind of adults they’ll be. I spot the one kid who will surely be crushing beer cans on his head when they’re all in high school. He’d be the one arousing laughter as he intentionally blows snot bubbles. It’s amazing to me that any of us make it to adulthood.
“Damn . . . when did we get so fucking old?” Brady asks.
I laugh and then go rigid when Liv enters the theater. Her eyes are swollen and the typically chipper smile she usually ruins my day with is nowhere to be found. She walks directly into my arms. I hold her close, looking over at Brady who shrugs.
After a few minutes, she finally let’s go of me. She swipes under her eyes with her fingers. Since I said yes to give her away, she’s been over the moon with obnoxious wedding planning bliss. I’ve wanted to ba
rf seeing her surrounded by glitter and unicorns in her land of make believe, but watching her in pain is a new kind of frustration. I know what she’s going to say and I fight to keep my composure.
“You were right,” she says as tears puddle in her eyes. “The wedding’s off. Are you happy?” That’s one of those questions you’re fucked if you answer. Hell yes, I’m happy. I’m elated in fact. “I’m so lame.”
“No you’re not.” I wipe a stray tear from her cheek and smile.