“Are you saying he’s merely hanging out with me to irritate you, that I’m not good enough for his attention on my own merit?”
“I swear if you weren’t tied to a man right now, I’d show you how easy it is for you to have any man’s undivided attention. Shit, I’d probably have committed my noncommittal ass to you a long time ago had you ever been available.”
I waved his comment away, trying not to hear it or let it spark hope somewhere deep down where I didn’t need hope right now. “You don’t commit your ass to anyone. Let’s be honest, your attention was definitely elsewhere with Sandy the other night.” It would ground us both to say the truth out loud.
He licked his lips and nodded slowly. He got up from the bed and took a step toward me. “When’s the last time you talked to Dougie?”
I stepped back toward the door. This line of questioning was going to get us in trouble fast. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, it matters.”
“Why?” I took two more steps back as he took another toward me.
“Because you’re stalling. Are you scared of us, Meek?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and I come from a long line of smart businessmen. I’m starting to realize that Dougie was a lot of horrible things, but he may have served as a barrier between us the past couple of weeks.”
“Why would I ever need that?” I threw back at him. He couldn’t possibly know what I’d just figured out: Dougie had been a tool to help me keep Jay at arm’s length, to stop myself falling over the edge like so many before me I didn’t want to love him and his charm. I could not let a kiss or two turn into something more.
Because I didn’t know if I could handle losing more.
I worried that the loss of Jay would hurt more than the bruises Dougie inflicted or the failure of our relationship. If Jay didn’t fall for me as I knew I would fall for him, the wreckage would be catastrophic. Epic. Devastating.
“You and I both know why. We’ve always worked well together. We’re always in sync. The day I met you on the beach should have been the day I made you mine.”
“I had a boyfriend.”
“Had or have?”
“We shouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” I mumbled as I looked away.
“Woman, you don’t make mistakes with words.”
“I definitely can make mistakes with words,” I countered, but it wasn’t true. My mother had taught me Chinese and English and hired speech pathologists to make sure no one would be able to tell that I was the daughter of an immigrant. It was another way to ensure I’d be the best, and she told me daily that she expected that.
He shook his head like he couldn’t believe I was trying to lie to him. “When did you end it?” he asked softly.
Maybe I felt the need to cry because he said it so delicately or maybe because he rested his forehead on mine before I could answer.
Why was this the part that hurt so much?
My throat burned as I took a deep breath. My voice shook along with my chin as I answered, “He called me. I answered.”
I didn’t say the words. I didn’t admit the failure just yet.
“Is it over?”
“Jay, can we just…”
“Answer me. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”