"But I'm not good enough for you. Lemon, you're—"
"Lovely," she says. "Wonderful, incredible. One of a kind?" she asks, her eyes brimming with tears. “That's what you've said, but I guess it's not enough for you. I'm not enough for you."
"That's not what I'm saying," I tell her, stepping toward her.
She puts up a hand though. "No, don't. You've said plenty."
"You deserve a guy who knows what it's like to be in a family, who knows what it's like to put down roots, who—"
She swallows. "Fine," she says flatly, "you're not that guy. I guess it's better I know that now rather than later, right?"
I nod. "That's what I was wanting to tell you."
"Fine," she says. "You should go."
"I don't want it to be like this."
Her eyes widen. She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. "Don't say that. You're picking this, so it is what you want."
"No," I tell her. "It's not. I just—"
"I just," she says, her voice harsher now, "need to get ready so I can go see my grandma in the hospital. All right? I don't have time for heartbreak right now. I have to focus on my family. That's what I always do. Put my family first. And you, Anchor, are not my family. Even though," she shakes her head, her voice cracking, "even though, I swear to God, I could see it all—a life with you."
I want to step toward her, but she walks to her bedroom, closing the door.
I take the cue to go, leaving her with what is left of my heart, knowing that walking away from Lemon Rough is both the hardest and the only thing I can do.
13
LEMON
Alone in my room,I let the tears fall freely, confused at what just happened, but realizing I should have seen it coming.
Anchor told me in several different ways that the idea of commitment, of family, of settling down overwhelmed him.
And then not only did my brothers crash my birthday yesterday, I brought him home to meet my father the day after we made love.
It's a lot. All of it is. And I wish that things would've gone differently. Because with him gone, alone in my bedroom, I realize that I love him.
I love a man who can't offer me what I need or want: a forever.
Even with this realization, I can't focus on myself right now. I need to focus on Grandma Rosie. I shower and dress quickly. My phone buzzes with texts from my family, letting me know that the visiting hours are open. Mom calls and I pick up on the first ring. "Hey, Mom," I say, my voice cracking.
She mistakes the emotion for thinking about Grandma, which is what I’m trying to focus on instead of Anchor.
"Oh, Lemon," she says, "I wish we were there. I think we're going to fly home."
"Have you talked to Dad today?" I ask. "Maybe don't rush home from your trip just yet. Dad sounded really optimistic yesterday."
"I know," Mom says, "but it's hard to focus on anything good right now when I know you guys are going through so much."
"How's Fig handling it all?"
I ask, knowing she and Grandma Rosie have always had a tight bond. All of us kids have with our grandma. She's been a part of our lives since the day we took our first breaths. Life without her feels unbearable. She's the matriarch of the Rough family.
“She’s right here, and she is as good as she can be. We just wish we could be there to dole out hugs.” Mom sighs.“Will you call me after you see Grandma? I've tried to talk to your father, but it's hard to get a clear idea of how things really are going. He is always the optimist. I know I can count on you to tell me the truth."
"Of course," I say, "I would never let you down."