“Did she or you ever regret it after?”
“I didn’t. She did stop by a few weeks later and wanted to know if I was reconsidering at all. I don’t think she really was, either. I think she was just lonely. Since then, though, neither of us has talked about getting back together.”
My stomach clenches at that information. I get it. I know it took me several tries before I left Neal.
“So, what is it you’re looking for in someone?”
“I guess what we all want.”
“Elaborate.”
He looks off in the distance as he pulls me in tighter. “What my parents have. Love with a partner who’s supportive and meets me on my level. Attraction, obviously—like, undeniable attraction that feels visceral. I want someone I trust—someone who’s a teammate with me. We push and challenge each other and won’t allow the other to fall behind or be half-assed in the relationship. I want it all, I guess: wife, white picket fence, kids. What about you? What is Brooklyn Dyer looking for?” He kisses the top of my head.
“The same. I was in a long-term relationship before. We met in college and dated for just over five years. On paper, we were perfect together: liked the same things, had the same interests and goals. We both wanted to marry and have a family and careers. A mutual friend set us up, actually: my friend Becca. Funny thing is, after the first date with Neal, I felt like there wasn’t a connection. That spark or electric moment I thought I’d feel never happened. So I didn’t plan on seeing him again.”
“So how do you go from that to five years?”
“I stupidly let Becca talk me into it,” I laugh. “I remember telling her, and she told me I’d be crazy to pass up a guy like him, because he checked every box. She wasn’t wrong. I honestly believe he will make an amazing husband and father someday, just not with me.”
“Makes sense. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not settling.”
“Yeah, that’s how I feel, but others didn’t see it that way. Honestly, I have no one to blame but myself. I remember asking my mom if that’s what love is like, and she said that love is a choice, and that sometimes feelings fail and you have to choose to love someone.”
He looks at me a little sideways. “I mean, yeah, you do choose to love your partner when times are tough, but I don’t think it should be that way from the get-go.”
“You’re right . . . it shouldn’t. I kept listening to everyone say, ‘He’s perfect, he’s amazing, you guys look great together and will have an amazing life.’ So I stuck it out and I did end up loving him, truly I did. We got along great, so it ended up being easy to love him, but eventually, it just felt like we were roommates, because while I did end up falling in love with him, I never felt that spark and pull toward him—like I craved him.”
“So what was the catalyst? What made you finally leave?”
I sigh and think about all the different times I tried to end things.
“I actually tried to end things a bunch of times, but he would genuinely fall apart and cry and beg me to stay. He’d tell me how amazing we were together and how we fit so well, and I’d feel bad and second-guess things. I think I was scared to start over with someone else or be alone, so I’d stay. But one day I just realized I was wasting his time and mine, and it was so unfair for me to stay in the relationship when I had fallen out of love with him. So I just told him the truth—that I was done for good and I was so sorry I broke his heart.”
Neither of says anything else as he pulls me against his chest and wraps both of his arms around me. We stare at the fire for several minutes before he speaks again.
“Seems like we’re two lost souls looking for the same thing.”
I let his words hang in the air. I want to say I think I’ve already found it, but I don’t.
“It’s getting late and cold. Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Okay.” I stand and he grabs my hand, leading me toward the tent. I stop and pull against his hand and he turns to face me. “I don’t want to sleep yet though.”
He pulls me against him, cupping my cheek with his free hand as he looks down into my eyes. “You think I brought you all the way out here in the woods to go to sleep?” He leans down and gently nips at my bottom lip. “Baby, you don’t know me as well as I thought.”
He kisses me harder this time, moving his hand from my cheek to grip my throat as he forces his tongue inside my mouth.
“There’s nobody for miles out here. Nobody to hear you scream while I wreck your tight little pussy.”
I feel myself throb at his crass words and I only want more.
“Tell me more,” I whisper as we tumble into the tent.
“More what, baby?” He rips my shirt from my body as I reach for his belt.
“Dirty talk.”
“That right? My baby likes to hear all the filthy fucking things I’m going to do with you?”