A Lover's Lament(31)

“You don’t want to hurt me.” His gravelly voice drips with disbelief. “What the f*ck does that even mean, Katie?”

Spinning on his heel, Wyatt turns and paces the length of my room with his hands planted firmly on his hips. When he makes his second path, he stops in front of me. His blue eyes are full of unshed tears, and the sight nearly breaks my heart in two. “Despite what we just talked about, what did I do? Tell me what I did. Was I not attentive enough?” He steps forward and nudges me back. “Did I say the wrong things, or take you to the wrong places?” His voice goes from raw to hard and unyielding. “Tell me what I did!” he shouts.

“Nothing,” I blurt, pushing him back a step. “You didn’t do anything, don’t you get that? This isn’t about you, Wyatt, it’s about me. I’m not in love with you anymore, and you deserve better than that.” I look down. A sense of calm washes over me and my shoulders sag in relief. “I deserve better than that.” My voice is softer and more reserved, because I can feel it in my heart that I’m doing the right thing. He may hate me now, but someday … someday when he’s had time to think, time to move on, he’ll understand.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry, Wyatt.” Our eyes meet and I rest my hand over my chest. “I didn’t see this coming. It crept up on me, and I think that if you look at it—really look at it—that you’ll—”

“Fuck!” His loud voice thunders through the room, and I flinch. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard him yell like that, and I hate that I’m the cause. “I don’t want to look at it, Katie! I love you.”

He shoves a finger into my chest and I stumble back. Catching myself on the dresser, I stand tall, determined not to back down. Regret flashes across Wyatt’s face. Cautiously, he reaches for me, but I step back.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. I know that he wasn’t trying to push me, but I don’t want him touching me. I’m too open, too raw, and frankly, I’m not sure what it will do to me.

“I just want you.” His words are laced with conviction, his eyes shining with passion, and I don’t doubt for one second that he means it. “I want the life we’ve talked about, the life we’ve planned. I want the white picket fence and the tire swing in the front yard.” Slowly, he steps toward me. My feet stay planted as I listen to him beg me for all the things my younger self promised him years ago. “I want those three kids. Two boys and a girl, remember?”

I nod feebly and he takes another step in my direction.

“Don’t you see that in your future?” Ever so gently, Wyatt cups my face in his hands. “Because I do. I see all of that ... with you.”

It sounds amazing … all of it. And I hope that one day I’m lucky enough to experience everything that he’s talking about. But as the words fall from his mouth—as I picture it all in my head—I don’t see it with him, and that brings on a whole new wave of guilt. “Wyatt.” His name is but a whisper, packed full of more emotion than an entire f*cking romance novel, and I can tell by the stunned look on his face that he understood the meaning loud and clear.

Wyatt’s eyes widen and he steps back. The passion in his eyes fades, quickly replaced with frustration and pain. “Damn it, Katie!” Spinning around, he moves across the room. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he slides his fingers through his thick blond hair, tugging at the strands.

This is not at all how I saw this going. Honestly, I’m not sure what I expected, but I thought that maybe I could get him to see that this is for the best. I know now that never would’ve happened because tonight I broke his heart, and I know all too well how that feels. How could I ever expect him to understand—let alone someday forgive me—when I’m walking away after promising him forever? I’m still not sure I could ever forgive the man who broke my heart, so why should I expect anything different from Wyatt?

Unconsciously, my thumb rolls my engagement ring around my finger. I look down, watching as the diamond catches the light, scattering specks of color around the room. For the first time since we got engaged over a year ago, the white gold princess-cut ring feels foreign on my finger. The weight of the diamond, like the weight of my guilt, sits heavily, and I slip it off while at the same time letting go of the lie that I’ve been living this past year. It’s cathartic in a way that I can’t even explain. In a sense, I feel lighter. However momentary it may be, the monsters inside of me have calmed, and for once I feel like I can actually breathe.

A low grunt catches my attention. Looking up, I find that Wyatt has put on his jeans, and I watch him tug his t-shirt over his head. He drops to the bed, his elbows on his knees and palms covering his face, rubbing it roughly several times. Please don’t break, I think to myself. You deserve so much more than the broken girl that I’ve become.

Slowly, I move toward him. His face tilts up, his glassy eyes finding mine, and it’s impossible to miss the tearstains on his cheeks. Instantly, my nose burns—the kind of burn that comes right before I turn into a blubbery mess of tears and snot. We watch each other for several seconds, and when I’m confident that I have some control over my emotions, I push the ring into the palm of his hand.

Wyatt looks down at where I have my hand wrapped around his, and then his eyes dart back up to mine. “You are an amazing person, Wyatt. You are kind and generous”—I swallow hard past the lump in my throat—“and smart and funny, and I am lucky to have had you in my life. One of these days you are going to make someone very, very happy. And I don’t deserve your friendship, but I’m selfish enough to ask for it, because the thought of not having you in my life is terrifying.” Wyatt’s jaw clenches, a fresh batch of tears collecting in his eyes, and I suck in a shuddery breath. “You may not believe it right now, but I never meant to hurt you. You were my very first friend and your happiness means the world to me, which is why I need to do this.” Wyatt’s lips pinch into a thin line and I know that he has something to say, but I need to get this out or I may never get the chance again. “My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner”—he flinches and I rush to explain—“because I knew months ago that my feelings had changed. But I was greedy. I was scared to lose you … scared to lose your strength and your friendship. I see now how unfair that was to you, and for that I’m so sorry.”