A Lover's Lament Page 9

  Maggie pushes her plate to the side, the corner of her mouth tipping up in a classic shit-eating grin. “I wonder how far I can push my luck.”

  “Try me.”

  “Have you heard—?”

  The front door slams shut, and we both turn in time to see Wyatt kick off his boots. “Fucking Wyatt,” Maggie growls under her breath. “He totally just cock-blocked me.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. I giggle, watching Maggie act like a petulant child.

  “What?” she asks.

  “You don’t have a cock, Mags, and we aren’t having sex.”

  “But that’s what it would feel like,” she answers with a completely straight face. “You were loose and ready to go, and I was totally going in for the kill, and BAM!” She smacks her hands together and shakes her head slowly from side to side. “Wyatt walks in and ruins it all.”

  I toss my head back and laugh, noticing instantly how foreign it sounds even to my own ears. But even though it’s foreign, it feels good.

  I’m finally able to catch my breath when Wyatt steps into the kitchen. He eyes me skeptically and then gives Maggie a pointed look. “Magdalena.”

  “Cock blo—”

  I slap a hand across her mouth, and we both lose ourselves in another fit of laughter. Wyatt watches us curiously and I half expect him to demand to know what’s so funny, so I’m caught completely off-guard when he simply smiles—and not just at me, but at Maggie as well.

  Maggie and Wyatt have never really gotten along, but they’ve tolerated each other for my sake. I’ve always chalked up their dislike for one another to nothing more than a clash of personalities. Maggie is as loud and rambunctious as they come, and Wyatt is, well … not. Wyatt is more of a straight-laced kind of guy, quick to walk away, and always—as taught by his mother—reserved.

  With slow, measured steps, he walks over and slides into the chair next to me. “You’re smiling … and laughing.” I nod, dropping my hand from Maggie’s face. Wyatt leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on my lips, and then pulls back, watching me with open adoration. I wait for that familiar tug inside my chest, the one that I used to get when he would kiss me, the one that I haven’t felt in months. My eyes roam his face, desperately searching for something—anything.

  Nothing.

  All the feelings of uncertainty and guilt that I’ve been pushing away for the past several weeks rush to the forefront, and my stomach drops. How did this happen? How did we get here? I’ve already lost so much; I can’t lose him too.

  Something in my expression must change because Wyatt’s face falls and he eyes me with a hint of confusion. Did he notice it too? Could he tell that my heart didn’t flutter and my breath didn’t catch in my throat like it should have? I’m completely frozen in place because I feel, without an ounce of uncertainty, that this isn’t a phase. This isn’t something I have to work through. This is just how I feel.

  A dull ache resonates in my belly at the thought of hurting Wyatt. Unable to hold his gaze, my eyes drift over his shoulder. Maggie is watching me intently, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think that she just read my mind. She knows me, and she’s been around the two of us more times than I could ever try and count. She sees it too.

  Clearing her throat, Maggie breaks eye contact and looks at Wyatt. “It’s because of me, Wy-Wy.” Wyatt’s jaw clenches at the nickname she gave him years ago. She’s using their general dislike for each other to break the tension, and even though I don’t think it’ll work, I’m thankful that she’s trying. “I’m the one that made her smile.”

  “I’m sure you did, Magdalena,” Wyatt states flatly. His eyes plead with mine, begging me to explain what’s going on. Everything inside of me is screaming to make this right, to pull him into my arms and reassure him that we are okay. But I can’t, because we are not okay. He runs a finger down the side of my cheek and offers me a hesitant smile. “Is everything alright?”

  I’ve waited months for him to push me for answers, and he chooses now? “I’m fine.” I pause, giving myself the opportunity to lay it all on the line, but like always, I chicken out. How do you tell your boyfriend of seven years—who is now your fiancé—that you’re not in love with him anymore? “I’m fine,” I repeat, even though he hadn’t questioned me after I said it the first time. My voice is even and controlled, and the lack of emotion should speak volumes. Wyatt’s eyes flit between mine and he opens his mouth, but the loud shrill of his radio cuts him off.

  “Shit,” he hisses, rushing into the living room. Wyatt grabs his radio off the coffee table, where he must have set it when he walked in, and slips his boots on. Then he comes back into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator while we waits for the dispatcher to give details surrounding the call.

  Wyatt is a third-generation volunteer firefighter, and over the past several years, I’ve learned to stay calm until I know what the emergency is. The town we live in is quite small, with only about seventy-five hundred residents. Therefore, the fire department responds to anything from a fully engulfed structure fire to minor medical emergencies.

  A loud voice crackles through the radio. “Attention Rock River Fire Department and Rock River EMS. Report of a two-vehicle 10-50 on Highway 25 near the intersection of Placard Road. Report of airbag deployment with multiple occupants. Unknown injuries. No further information at this time.”

  “I gotta go, baby.” Wyatt dips down so we’re eye to eye. He cups my cheek in his hand and kisses me twice before pulling back. “I don’t know what’s going on with you tonight, but when I get back, we’re gonna talk about it.”

  He spins around and hauls ass through the house. “Be safe!” I yell, my words dying off when the front door slams shut.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “A 10-50 is a car accident,” I answer dryly, dragging my gaze back to Maggie.

  “Nope, not that,” she says, her lips pressed into a firm line. “The other thing.”

  “What other thing?” I ask, pretending I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.

  “Alright.” Sliding her chair back, she gets up, walks to the cupboard and grabs two wine glasses. “If that’s how you wanna play this.” I follow her movements as she strolls to the refrigerator and picks out a bottle of wine, then pulls the stopper from the top. Gripping the two glasses in one hand and the bottle clenched in the other, she falls into her seat at the table. “I’ve got all night, Katie.” There’s a smirk on her face when she fills both glasses with my favorite red wine and pushes one toward me.

  “There’s only enough there for another two glasses.”

  Her smile grows and she tips her goblet in my direction. “Well then, it’s a good thing I have two more bottles in my car … and a change of clothes.”

  “Great.” I groan and tip my head back, draining half of my glass. It’s a damn good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow, because it sure would suck spending twelve hours in the hospital taking care of other people while nursing a hangover.

  Placing the goblet on the table, I move it around slowly, waiting for her to say something. Maggie’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and I watch as she takes several small sips of her wine. Minutes tick by, and eventually she reaches for the newspaper on the counter and flips through the pages. She sure as hell isn’t making this easy on me, that’s for sure.

  “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  Maggie levels me with unyielding eyes. “Igualmente, my friend.”

  “I hate it when you do that. You know I can’t understand Spanish.”

  Maggie snorts with laughter as I finish off the Stella Rosa. Lifting up the bottle of wine, she refills my glass and then offers me a cocky smile. “Si dejaras de ser una perra, yo no lo haria.”

  When she starts speaking Spanish, I typically just ignore her, because if I play into it, she won’t stop. She simply loves to torment me. So instead, my mind races, trying to figure out the best way to put into words what I’m feel
ing. When I draw a complete blank, I decide to just go for it.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I push down the anxiety that is keeping me from opening up. “I’m not in love with Wyatt anymore.”

  Maggie’s smile falters, and her shoulders rise and fall when she sighs. “I know.”

  The casual way that rolls off her tongue irks me. “Really?” My tone is much sharper than I intend, and Maggie frowns at me. “How the hell did you know when I just figured it out myself?”

  “Did you, though, just figure it out? Really?” Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Because I’ve seen it for at least the past year.”

  “No,” I say firmly, unwilling to believe I could have been blind for that long. “The past several months, yes, but—”

  “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 t
he 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

  “KATIE?”

  My eyes snap open and I find Wyatt propped up on his elbows, watching me. The sheet is bunched around his hips and the muscles of his abdomen twitch under the weight of my stare. My eyes rake over his half-naked body and I will myself to feel something. At some point during the night I finally gave up trying to fall asleep and I moved to a chair across the room.

  “Sorry if I woke you up,” he says, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes. “Is everything okay?”

  Oh my gosh, I can’t do this. I can’t hurt him. My arms and legs feel weak, and my heart is beating so hard that it could possibly fly right out of my chest. Shit. I suck in a sharp breath. “No¸” I blurt.

  Wyatt’s brows furrow and I know he’s waiting for more, but that one word is all I can seem to get out. Guilt crawls up my throat, threatening to make itself known—the same guilt that could potentially keep me from doing what needs to be done.

  Wyatt flings the covers off and moves to get out of bed. Urgently, I hold up a trembling hand. “Please,” I beg, shaking my head. Wyatt’s eyes widen and his lips part, and the look of panic on his face nearly brings me to my knees. “Please.”

  I love Wyatt. I’ll always love Wyatt. But he deserves so much better. He deserves a woman that will love him, heart and soul. A woman that will open herself up and give him everything that life has to offer. I’m not that woman. Not for Wyatt—probably not for anyone.

  And it’s the thought that Wyatt deserves better that pushes the words from my mouth. “I can’t...” My voice cracks, and I look up at the ceiling and squeeze my eyes shut, a feeble attempt to gain some sort of control. “I can’t do this anymore.”