“Seriously, Katie?” she snaps, pausing momentarily to look at me like I’ve grown a second head. My eyebrows are practically in my hairline as I wait for her to continue. “Fine. How often do you and Wyatt go out?”
“That’s not fair, Mags. You know damn well that I’ve pushed him away since Daddy died.” Just the mention of my dad’s death causes a thick band to constrict around my heart and my eyes instantly well up with tears.
I watch as regret replaces determination on Maggie’s face. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” Waving her off, I take another sip of my wine. “We should be able to mention it without me going into freak-out mode. Keep going…” I urge, wanting to move past this as quickly as possible.
“Okay, how often did you and Wyatt hang out before the accident?”
She already knows the answer to that because she’s always with us, but I know she’s trying to make a point so I play along. “A couple of times a week.”
She nods, accepting my answer. “And who was initiating those get-togethers?”
I open my mouth to reply and then quickly snap it shut. Son of a bitch. “Wyatt,” I whisper. My mind works furiously to recall a time when I initiated anything with him, and I come up completely empty.
“And how often have you sent me a last-minute text to come over and hang out with the two of you?”
No. There’s no way that I’ve been avoiding alone time with Wyatt. Right? We’ve spent plenty of time together, just the two of us. “Okay, yes, I would invite you over, but Wyatt always stayed the night after you left and we sure as hell weren’t knitting scarves in bed.”
“But don’t you see? He’s your fiancé, Katie. Not only do you guys not live together, but you don’t even spend every night together. Sean is just my boyfriend and we spend every single night together—alone. And I don’t doubt that you and Wyatt have been intimate, but I do question how much passion there is between you.”
Her words pierce through the armor that I’ve spent the last several months shielding myself behind. My leg bounces rapidly under the table. Nervous energy builds up inside me to the point that I feel like if I don’t move or do something, I’ll explode. A tiny part of me wants to blow up at Maggie, to tell her to fuck off and mind her own business, but I can’t. It’s been my defense mechanism for far too long, and it’s time I act like an adult.
“Fuck.” Burying my face in my hands, I groan. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Nausea rolls through my stomach at the thought that I’ve led Wyatt on, and I take a deep breath to try and keep from throwing up. She’s right. She’s completely right. “How did I not see this sooner?”
“Okay, first, nothing is wrong with you, sweetie.” Maggie’s soft hand lands on my arm and I look up, meeting her gaze. “Second, I don’t think you saw it because you didn’t want to see it. There is no doubt in my mind that you love Wyatt; you’re just not in love with him.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes and I shake my head adamantly. “I’m not. I want to be … God, do I want to be in love with him. The thought of hurting him makes me physically ill. But why? That’s what I don’t get. He’s perfect for me, Maggie. He’s an amazing guy. How did I just fall out of love with someone like that?”
Thoughts. Hit. Brick. Wall. Holy shit. Is that what happened with Devin? Did he just fall out of love with me? Did he sleep with me and then decide that what he was feeling was nothing more than friendship? That it was easier to cut and run rather than deal with the fallout of an emotional woman?
“I’m not sure.” Maggie watches me for several seconds, and then she stands up, grabs both of our wine glasses and nods toward the living room. “Let’s go in there and talk.” Numbly, I follow her into the living room and curl up in the corner of my couch while she makes herself comfortable in the recliner. “Permission to speak freely.”
“I think I’ll need more wine for this.” I reach my hand out and she looks down, realizing that she’s still holding my glass. With a cheeky smile, she pushes it into my hand and then drains the rest of her wine. “Permission granted.”
“Is it possible that you’ve never truly been in love with him?” My brows furrow and she reaches a hand out. “Hear me out. You guys have been together for, what, five years?”
“Seven,” I say, a wave of nostalgia washing through me. Wyatt and I had been friends since kindergarten, so when he’d built up enough courage to ask me out our sophomore year in college, I didn’t think twice about saying yes. Because even though I’d never thought of Wyatt as more than a friend, what did I have to lose? And well, we’ve been together ever since. It was easy and comfortable, and not once did I regret the decision. We liked the same things, we had a ton of fun together and I just generally enjoyed being with him. The first time he kissed me, I had all of the universal ‘first kiss’ symptoms. Butterflies took flight in my stomach, my palms were sweaty and the itch to kiss him again was strong. It took another year, but we eventually slept together, and even though the first time was beyond awkward, it eventually got better.
Wyatt was the first person I’d slept with since that ill-fated night with Devin. In the beginning, I compared the two, which always led to a tremendous amount of guilt. One day, I just decided that I couldn’t continue to compare Wyatt to Devin. Devin was gone and he wasn’t ever coming back. I knew that I had to cherish what I had, because even though our connection didn’t feel as strong as the one Devin and I had, I was still aware that it was a connection most people would die for.
Eventually, I began to crave Wyatt. There were times when he was all I could think about, and his presence would soothe me in ways that nothing or no one else could. So no, what Maggie is saying is not possible. “I was in love with him.” The words fall easily from my mouth because they’re true. I did love him; I just didn’t love him enough. I didn’t love him the way a woman should love a man, the way a woman should love her soul mate.
“I can’t argue with that look on your face.”
“How do I … what am I … shit.” Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling. My hand slides into my hair. Wrapping a thick chunk around my finger, I twirl it as I sift through my own thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt him.” It sounds stupid when I say those words aloud, because that’s all I’ve been doing. I’ve already hurt him enough, and now—
“You need to let him go. You have to let him go.”
“I know.” A thick lump forms in my throat and I swallow past it. Rubbing my hands nervously over my legs, I look up. “I know I do.”
“It’s going to hurt him, there’s no way around that. But it’s better to get it over with now.” I nod my head because I know that she’s right. It doesn’t make it any easier though.
A tear slides down my face, and Maggie gets up and walks over to me. Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she sits down and pulls me against her side. “He’s going to be angry, but you owe it to yourself—and to Wyatt—to do this now. I want you to be happy, Katie. You’ve been through so much and you deserve to be happy.”
“So does Wyatt.” I sniff, tucking my face into the crook of her neck. Maggie’s hand runs a soothing path up and down my back, and without fighting it or even thinking too much about it, I accept the comfort she’s offering.
“Yes,” she says, chuckling. “Even Wy-Wy.” A half sob, half cry falls from my mouth and I swipe away my tears.
“I love you, Mags. You’re the best.”
Maggie’s grip on me tightens and she presses her lips to my head. “If you knew what I called you in Spanish earlier, you might not think so.”
“Slow Dancing In A Burning Room” – John Mayer