“What’s going on?” I ask in my most sympathetic tone.
He sighs.
“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
“Me neither,” I say softly.
He closes his eyes. “And I feel so guilty.”
My stomach drops.
“I think I made a mistake,” he goes on.
I lick my lips. My mouth has gone dry. I don’t want to ask, but I must:
“You mean, breaking up?”
He scratches his face with the back of his hand, scrunching up his eyes. He lookssomiserable.
“No,” he says, to my profound relief. “It’s the right thing to do. But it’s just so sudden, you know?”
I nod, trying to keep my face neutral.
“And after yesterday, it’s like all I want to do is see you. Talk to you.”
Oh, thank God. I really thought this was going in another direction.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“But, Molly, I amtwo daysout of an engagement.”
Relief turns to dread. His voice is full of self-loathing. I don’t know what to say.
“And obviously we didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, “and it was enjoyable—”
I grimace at my most intense orgasm ever being described as “enjoyable.”
“But I just feel like maybe this is all too much, too soon.”
“Ah,” I say.
He gives me an aggrieved look. “I don’t mean you—I mean me. I need to stop jumping into every single little thing like a relationship is a life raft.”
“Every single little thing?”
I feel ill.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not—you mean so much to me, Molly.”
I’m touched to hear him say this. Even though I know in my bones that what comes next is going to be brutal.
“But I need to be alone right now, figure out why I keep doing this, you know? Jumping into things.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” I force out.
“And it’s not fair to drag you into it. It’s my mess, and I don’t want to mix you up in it.”
What is sad about this is that I know he would not be saying it if he didn’tfeel like I do. That there is something big between us. Too big. At least for him. At least for right now.
