“Patrick…I-I don’t know what to say, but I don’t think you should just leave like this. I mean, things are kind of mentally and emotionally difficult for everyoneright now. All of our mental health is suffering, literally everybody. I’ve been reading about it. And I can see that you’re having a lot of really…you know…bigfeelings, but I just feel like you’re being impulsive by leaving like this.”
“I’m not being impulsive. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” He rubs his thumb across my hand again. “It was immediately clear that I made an impulsive choice that was going to cost me. And that was immediately clear because from the moment I saw you, Ava…”
Patrick closes his mouth, and his shoulders sink with an exhale. He looks away from me. “Everything changed, and it all changed for the worst, and the bittersweet center of that hurricane of change was meeting you. And it’s bittersweet because I knew I was a goner, and then I fucked it all up.” He shakes his head slightly. “All because I couldn’t resist the sight of you in that hallway.”
Drawing in a breath, Patrick lets go of my hand and stands up. “I don’t know how long the world is going to be like this, but getting to know you, and spending some time with you, and getting to share one amazing night with you is going to leave me with at least one good memory of an awful time.”
He turns and starts leaving. I’m too gobsmacked to be articulate right now, but I also can’t just let him leave without saying something.
I push up off the lounge chair and leap into the room after him, pitching forward to grab his arm and stop him. He turns to face me, and the subtlety of hope in his expression feels like a punch in the gut because I have to dash it.
I mean, I have to.
I couldn’t possibly just leave with Patrick and run off to another foreign place where I’ll be equally trapped.
This whole idea is illogical.
“Patrick, listen, you don’t need to leave like this.” I gesture emphatically at myself with both hands. “I’m not worth uprooting your life and turning it upside down.”
A half-smile tugs one corner of his mouth, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, you are.” He lifts his hand to brush his thumb across the apple of my cheek. “You’re always going to be the one that got away from me.”
I catch his wrist. “Then stay here and give me some time to process this. Give me some time to figure out how I feel about you.” I drop his arm so I can throw mine into the air and then let them fall in exasperation to my sides. “You can’t just tell me you’re in love with me and then leave like this. You have to give me time to figure out what I feel and what I want.”
He leans over my face. “What you feel and what you want won’t be the same as what I feel and what I want no matter how much time I give you.” He stands up straight and gestures with his head to the bedroom door. “Because he’s always going to be right there in the back corner of your mind, and you’re always going to be thinking,what if…what if…what if…”
If he’s trying to be snide, it doesn’t show. His whole tone and demeanor are still pleasant, matter-of-fact, and to the point.
“You don’t know that, Patrick.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling extremely exposed all of a sudden. “You couldn’t know that because you’re refusing to give me any time to process—”
“You were thinking of him that night, Ava.” He turns over his palms. “That’s the only reason that happened at all. And because of that, anything you ever felt for me would be filtered through that lens.”
I hug myself tighter. “This feels extremely unfair.”
He places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not trying to make you feel that way. I’m just stating the facts of this situation. And the situation itself is my own fault. I responded to you when I shouldn’t have. That’s why I have to leave.”
My throat begins to ache, and tears burn the rims of my eyes. “Well, I hate that you feel like you have to do that.”
He hitches his shoulders. “It is what it is.”
I scoff. “This is emotional whiplash.”
He offers a sympathetic smile. “I know it must feel that way, and I’m sorry for that, too. All of this is just what I gotta do. I gotta leave, and I wasn’t gonna leave until I told you. I owe myself that much. After all.” He winks at me. “I like to think there was at least a snowball’s chance in hell that you might have picked me.”
I lift my brows. “And I think that if you gave me more time, that snowball would have way better odds.”
He says nothing and simply stoops to pick up his bags.
“Wait.” My hand shoots forward to touch his forearm. “Will you at least stay in touch with me?”
He shakes his head. “That wouldn’t be fair to me.”
I frown. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I honestly didn’t intend for a lot of this to happen.”
“It wasn’t anything you did. It’s just the situation. And I’ll be all right.” He sets down one of the bags and opens his arm, inviting me for a hug goodbye.
I dive into him, wrapping my arms tight around his waist and pressing my cheek to his chest. He feels so good, and he smells so good, and something in me echoes the wish that he’d verbalized a couple of weeks ago.
I want to have met you somewhere else. Under different circumstances. Circumstances where I could get to know you properly. Circumstances that don’t exist.
