It bothered me. Why couldn’t I tell her how I felt? I knew it would make her happy, I knew it was the truth, and I knew that I should. I’d promised her I’d let her in. People in relationships trusted each other with their deepest feelings.
But I just couldn’t get there.
I started to think my head knew something my heart didn’t. I started to feel like maybe I was giving my heart too much sway and I needed to take a step back. The same words that had made me feel so good the night of the wedding started to eat away at me just five days later. Questions nagged me.
What did it mean to love someone? What kind of power did that give someone over you? What kinds of ways could loving someone come back to haunt you? What kinds of ways could the beloved hurt you? By confessing your love, weren’t you essentially telling someone I need you? I don’t want to lose you? I’m vulnerable to you? It was like laying down all your weapons and asking for them to be used against you, wasn’t it?
I started to wonder.
Thirty-Three
Claire
* * *
On the Wednesday night after Margot’s wedding, I met Jaime for weekly GNO. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since the wedding, so we spent the first half hour looking at pictures on our phones and talking about how beautiful Margot had looked, how perfect everything had gone, and how happy we were for her.
“You disappeared awfully quickly after the cake was cut.” Jaime raised her eyebrows and picked up her drink.
“I said goodbye, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you were already halfway out the door.” She smiled knowingly. “How was the rest of your night?”
“Good.” My breath caught at the memory of that night—the drive home, the stairs, my bedroom.
And what I’d said.
He hadn’t said it back yet, and I was OK with that. I understood it would probably take some time for him to be comfortable with the words, especially since I was the first person to say them to him. I knew I had to be patient. But something had felt a little off with him ever since that night. It was nothing I could put my finger on—he just felt a little distant. Maybe Jaime would have some advice.
“I told Theo I loved him that night.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
I nodded, focusing on the wine in my glass. “But I’m thinking it may have been a mistake.”
“Why? He didn’t say it back?”
“No. He didn’t. But it’s not that so much. I sort of knew he might not be ready to say it back. I was prepared for that.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Yes. He told me I was the first person to say those words to him.”
“Whoa. That’s fucked up.” She narrowed her eyes. “How’s that even possible?”
I sighed. “I haven’t gone into Theo’s background much, but he had a really tough childhood. Mom left when he was one. Dad was abusive. He took off too eventually, about the time Theo was eight.”
She blinked. “Holy shit. That’s a lot of baggage. He seems so well-adjusted and happy-go-lucky.”
“He’s a good actor,” I said sadly. “Anyway, I don’t think emotional attachment comes easily for him.”
“How could it?” She shook her head. “Poor guy.”
“So I get that saying ‘I love you’ might not come naturally to him.”
“Love might not come naturally to him,” Jaime pointed out. “He might not even recognize it in himself. But Claire, the guy is crazy about you.”
My lips turned up a little. “You think so?”
“Yes. It’s totally obvious. You should see the way he looks at you.” She imitated a cartoonish lovestruck stare, sighing heavily and propping her chin in her hand.
I laughed. “He does not look like that.”
She sat up again. “Yes, he does. So don’t let it bother you that he’s not all verbal about it.” She shrugged. “Some people aren’t.”
I toyed with the stem of my wine glass. “He just seems quieter than usual this week. A little removed. It’s giving me a weird vibe.”
“I bet you’re imagining it because of what you said. You’re worried you’re not on the same page, so you’re looking for things to confirm your fear.”
“Am I?” I bit my lip. It was possible she was right.
“I think so. Are you still having sex?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“And he still stays over?”
“Yes.”
“Then I really wouldn’t worry about it,” she said confidently, picking up her martini glass. “Give him time.”
I exhaled and sat up a little taller. “You’re right. I’m being silly, looking for trouble where there isn’t any. Things are great with us.”
* * *
Except the very next night was Valentine’s Day, and he didn’t stay.
“Where are you going?” I asked when he got out of bed and started putting his clothes on. We’d gone out for dinner and had come back to my house.
“Some furniture is being delivered to my apartment tomorrow morning, and the time window they gave me starts early.” He didn’t even look at me.
“You bought new furniture?”
“Just a new couch. The old one was pretty bad.”
I nodded, pulling the covers up to my chest. It was a small, stupid thing, maybe, but I was sort of hurt he hadn’t mentioned the purchase. “Oh.”