“What would happen if you just stayed here…and didn’t go back home?”

  That thought had crossed my mind so many times before when the stakes weren’t as high.

  “What would that look like?” I turned in my seat to face her. Although I hated when people answered a question with a question, it was the most appropriate response.

  “Tomorrow when your plane leaves, you don’t get on it. You just stay here.” Her response was matter of fact, like she had rehearsed it a thousand times before.

  Was she asking me to stay with her? As much as I would have loved nothing more to honor her request, it was impossible to do so. Kelley was at home. My job was at home.

  “Um. Seems like you have it all figured out.” I smiled to mask the visceral feeling building. Everything with Erin was always on her terms. This was no different. “I have a school to run. I can’t just walk away. Besides, I have nowhere to live and DC is expensive.”

  “You can get a job here. You can stay with me, for a fee, until you find your own place. Doesn’t seem that hard to me.” She turned into the driveway and parked. We sat there staring at one another. I put my hand on the door handle but stopped short realizing I would be standing in the winter cold until she opened the house.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently.

  Looking into her eyes, I wanted nothing more than to say, “to hell with it all” and stay, but my rational brain kicked in.

  “I have to go home tomorrow. I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am now and can’t just abandon that. I can plan to make that happen, but it won’t be tomorrow.”

  I rarely said no to Erin. And while I couldn’t tell if she was serious in that moment or not, I felt disappointed by not being able to just stay. Kelley had just moved in and we were planning to have a baby. Her timing could not have been worse. Where was this energy months ago? Why couldn’t she have asked me this question before I decided, yet again, to move on with my life?

  Once in the house, we retreated to the living room floor where she lit the fireplace and we settled into a game of Uno. The tension from the car melted into memory as we got lost in the present. Watching her strategize the next play took me back to playing Scrabble in the hotel. She was intense, even in something as simple as a card game. It was a turn on. In the light from the fire, she seemed to be glowing.

  “Pay attention,” she said, peeking up from her hand.

  Watching her made it hard to focus on the game. The energy in the room was palpable. I put my cards down and leaned across the deck, pulling her into a kiss. As we made contact, her body softened and she pulled me in closer. The cards scattered beneath me as she pulled my hair and I fell back onto the floor. She straddled across me and began unbuttoning her shirt. She wrapped her hair, which was cascading down over her chest, up into a messy bun. The fireplace crackled. Its warmth enveloped us as we removed our clothes, layer by layer, until we were left in our nakedness for each other to enjoy.

  *

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of my alarm and Erin tucked in my arms. Her hair was now up in a neat ponytail. I wanted to lay there forever, but I had a plane to catch. My flight was at ten thirty, and I still had to get back to the hotel, shower and change. I sighed and removed my arm, tucking the covers around her. I looked around the room for my clothes. They were downstairs.

  By the time I dressed, Erin was awake and sitting at the top of the steps in a white robe. When I approached, she moved to the side before standing up.

  It felt like she saw right through me and my bullshit. There were no words spoken as we walked toward the door. Once I reached the last step, I turned around and gently kissed her forehead before walking out of the door. I promised myself it was the last time I would every say goodbye.

  twenty-three.

  Six hundred and thirteen days had passed since the last time I saw Erin’s face. As I left the comfort of my car to walk to hers, the blistering wind cut through the thin jacket I had chosen to wear to DC in December. The cold was a sobering reminder of what I had gone through to see her if only for the last time.

  When I opened the door, I was overtaken by the scent of strawberry that permeated her previous vehicle. It was familiar and simultaneously foreign. Her hair was falling over her shoulders and her slender frame turned ever so slightly to face me in the passenger seat. I was struck by a flood of memories from our last encounter: a gentle morning kiss on the forehead before I walked down her street opposite of her house toward my hotel. That was supposed to be my last goodbye.

  I took a long, deep breath and hunkered down for our conversation, full of anticipation for what could come but no expectations of anything more than talking.

  “Was it really too much to meet you at your house?” I joked, attempting to break the ice. After a blank response from Erin, I glanced down at my phone to read what I had typed before boarding my flight. I wanted this meeting to be meaningful even if she didn’t forgive me. By penning words in my phone, I had both a tangible and visible reminder to keep my wits despite how emotional I may become.

  Soulful Christmas music drowned out the awkward silence that lingered as we sat, pondering who would speak next. It was loud enough to decipher the melodies and low enough the words were inaudible.

  “I’m sorry for what happened and for what I did...to you. I should have been up front with you in the beginning.”

  She rolled her eyes. At least I knew she was listening.

  “You gave me no choice. I felt like I wasn’t what you wanted, and I was tired of waiting on you to figure it out.” I stopped speaking. I adjusted in my seat and focused my attention out of her window toward the monument. She stared at me for what seemed like hours. Then, she broke her silence.

  “You lied to me. I was hurt because you claimed to love me, but you didn’t consider my feelings. If that’s how you love, I don’t want it.” Her tone was gentle, but firm. Her words were filled with her truth and they stung with every syllable spoken. I withheld my response. I wanted her to see I was listening.

  “Look at all you did. You had one foot in with me but kept the comfort of having someone else so you wouldn’t be alone. If you really loved me and wanted to be with me, you would have done what you needed to do then.” She turned her head to look out the front windshield, avoiding further eye contact with me. I clasped my hands together. “Then, you came here and slept with me, knowing all along you were planning to start a family with her. Did you think of how that would make me feel?”

  At this point, tears were streaming down her cheeks. I had learned in one of my leadership courses to let people show emotion however it showed up, especially if they began to cry. I had traveled 1,400 miles to DC to explain myself to her.

  “You refused to make me real to anyone who matters to you, like your family. Hell, I would’ve settled for meeting a friend.” I clenched my fists and released them to calm down. Although we had this conversation before, the mood was heavy and the words didn’t come easily. In all the time we had known each other, I never really pushed back when things didn’t go my way. I usually conceded or walked away. This was way too important to do either.

  “Living a life where it feels like everyone is blaming me for making their ‘baby’ gay is not the life I want to live,” I said. “I’ve been doing that most of my life, and it is not for me. I also won’t be with someone who calls me their best friend while we play Fifty Shades every night.” A light-hearted smile grazed her face, an acknowledgment she remembered how we were when we were together.

  “Why are you here, Peyton?” Her question was heavy. Although I thought my request to speak face-to-face was obvious, I had not specified it before she posed the question.

  Without skipping a beat, I declared my proclamation. “I love you and I want you in my life. I told God if I got this chance, I wouldn’t mess it up.” I hoped not to sound like a gimmick. “If you don’t love me, I will honor that and I promise to leave you alone. Forever.” As I said those words, I felt a part of my soul diminish. I believed we were meant for each another and saying I would never contact her again hollowed my soul.

  “You’ve said that before and we are here!” she stated emphatically, raising her voice an octave and massaging her temples. She leaned her head against her arm which was propped on the steering wheel. Her eyes were glazing over in an attempt not to cry.

  Erin was right. I thought to match her energy, but remembered what I had written down in my phone: “Don’t raise your voice.” Besides, what would yelling solve? I could tell from her slumped posture; she was at a crossroads.

  I had said many things before, including how I would leave her alone. And yet, I hadn’t. Here I was again making the same empty promise. What reason did she have at this point to believe me or anything else I said?

  “Look, I have nothing else to lose. Even if you don’t love me, I will have peace in knowing I’ve shared my truth with both you and Kelley.”

  Having previously filed for divorce and reneging on an account of misreading Erin’s commitment, this time would be different. Whether she wanted to be with me or not, I was freeing myself from the trauma of being unwanted. I was releasing responsibility of being with someone who I could not fully love in return.

  “Do you love me?” I asked. I stared at her face, hoping to see an expression that would give me an answer. As I started to get impatient, I blurted out, “It’s yes or no! Just give me a straight answer for once!” I alluded to the time a few years back when I asked the same questions a few days before my commitment ceremony with Parker. Back then, instead of saying yes or no when I asked if she loved me, she responded with a riddle. Though playful and clear, I dismissed her response as immaturity and carried on with my plan, though it wasn’t legal at that time.

  Finally, she replied. “If you loved me like you say you do, you would have come here ready and not still married. You would be able to do whatever it takes to show me you love me.” I had no rebuttal for what she was saying, so I just sat and listened. In my silence, I studied her until my eyes settled on her left ring finger. There was what appeared to be an engagement ring. It was simple and elegant. Very much her style.

  “Are you engaged?” I dismissed anything else she may have been saying.

  She rotated the ring around her finger with her thumb, noting its presence in the space. My stomach dropped.

  “Why is that any of your business? You’re married and don’t have on a ring.” She gestured toward my hand before I removed it from her line of sight.

  “One has nothing to do with the other, Erin. I’m moving forward with the divorce whether you love me or not. My feelings for you are too great to continue to subject another woman to the peril of not being you!”

  I attempted to conceal my devastation. How could I not have noticed the ring? Why would she meet me if she was with someone else and planning to marry them?

  “It’s a simple question, Erin. Either you are engaged or you aren’t. Clearly, it’s not just going to make me instantly stop loving you. Hell, I thought you would have kids and the total package when I reached out, and I’m still here.” My frustration was coming through as I raised my voice. ”I came all the way up here just to look you in the eyes and tell you I love you and see if you had any feelings left for me. After all we have been through and the time that has passed, if I could have let you go, I would have. Trust me, I have tried. If you are with someone, I’ll walk away. No one else should have to be hurt because I want you.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. ”It’s clear you aren’t going to answer my question about the ring, so do you love me, yes or no?”

  Adrenaline and chips I picked up in the airport had gotten me to this point. Both were starting to wear off. The below freezing temperature kept me from ending the conversation prematurely. If I left, it would be the end, no matter how she answered.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I do still love you.”

  Her words echoed in my ear. I had not actually prepared myself for a “yes.”

  Confused about what would come next, I smiled and looked out of the window back at the Lincoln Memorial. Maybe there was a chance at a more perfect union than the one we had known all those years before.

  We sat and continued to talk more. An hour-long drive to my cousin’s house wasn’t a deterrent to stay with her. Even through the late evening, time didn’t hold any meaning. My flight was in Baltimore and it would take an hour and half from my cousin’s house. Not overly concerned about the details and what was to come for us, I tried to remain in the moment. After noticing the time on the console edging toward 1 a.m., I prepared myself to get out of the car and go our separate ways.

  “Can I have a hug?” I asked. “And not a car hug.”

  “What have you done to deserve a hug?” she asked, bringing an err of lightness to the dramatics of this entire encounter.

  “I’m here.”

  As I exited the car, she did the same. I’d forgotten how bone-chilling the wind was until I moved to the front of the car, which faced the Potomac. A concession stand lit up the parking lot and revealed her petite frame. She was much smaller than I remembered and dressed in attire I was sure she didn’t normally wear: black fitted pants with knee-high boots and a motorcycle-style jacket. Although it was below freezing, I stood there, taking in her presence for as long as I could. I was so fixated on her physique I completely ignored her ring. I held her tightly in both arms, squeezing her butt cheek in my right hand before turning and walking back to my car without looking back.

  twenty-four.

  There was so much uncertainty in whatever was going to happen next. I didn’t actually know if we would ever speak again. I could only hope.

  I had felt this bubbling in my soul many times before. She possessed the gift of keeping me in anticipation. I apprehensively expected her to be at my beck and call, responding to my request to let me love her and be loved by her. This time, I would wait for her.

  In the hours between seeing her and whatever came next, I imagined our life together. Our version of the TV show American Dream—kids, a house, a loving marriage—was something I had never seen between two people who looked like us. This transition and our past were a mere hiccup on our journey to forever.

  And then, there was the issue of the ring.

  When we reconnected while I was in Denver, she had been in a relationship: one she broke off to give us a chance at a love we said we both wanted. I had reneged then, so I had no faith she would break another person’s heart for the ambivalence of me.

  Last night had taken me completely by surprise. Even after pinching myself, I still couldn’t determine what elements from the conversation were real. There was only one way to know for sure.

  Good morning. I made it to the airport. I have a few minutes before my flight if you’re free to talk.

  Moments later I felt the vibration from my phone against my butt. When I retrieved it, there was nothing. No message. No missed call. Nothing.

  I switched it from silent mode to alert. As jittery as I felt, I did not want to look paranoid walking through security at the airport. When and if she called, I would know.

  I had arrived to drop off the rental car two hours earlier than my departure time. Once through security, I casually made my way to my terminal, stopping for coffee along the way.

  As I strolled and sipped, I was reminded of Erin’s love of coffee and how it had no impact on her sleep no matter when she drank it. She would pour a cup while settling in for the evening and we talk till the sun came up. It was in those nuanced moments of time I must’ve fallen in love.

  *

  There was nothing newsworthy of my attention as I waited, so I sat. I made up stories about the people I saw waiting to board flights so early in the morning. The well-dressed blond who was heading back home to her husband after a business rendezvous. Men in suits were pretending to be important on a Sunday morning working on their laptops or pacing.

  In one of our earlier life excursions, Erin and I sat on a bench at Disney, people watching and making up stories.

  “He’s waiting for his family to get off a ride he didn’t want to go on,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “How do you know?” I was amused by her revelation.

  She smiled and shook her head. “I use my imagination. I give people a story as I sit and watch them. Try it.”

  Instead of just making up stories, I gave the people names. It made whatever story I was spinning more believable. We assigned scenarios to unsuspecting individuals as they passed by while we watched from our covered position during the rainstorm.

  Thinking about our time together in Florida ignited memories we had shared. Even separate experiences we shared with one another strengthened our connection. Erin had become so engrained in my soul loving her came as naturally as loving myself.

  No sooner than I got lost recalling all of the reasons why I loved Erin, my phone rang.

  “Good morning,” I perked, trying to mask my hesitance toward the unknown.

  “Hi. Sorry it took so long. I was in church.”

  “No worries. I’m just glad you actually called.” My sarcasm bordered passive aggression.

  “After last night, why wouldn’t I have called?” What do you mean “why wouldn’t you have called?” Have you not met you? She had failed to call so many times before. I had no reason after last night to feel this time would be any different.

  “Old habits die hard,” I retorted. She usually gave an excuse to walk away. I was removing the veil of passivity.

  The conversation started off easy, as it always had when we reconnected, but there was more that needed to be addressed. I decided to be completely honest with Erin from that point forward, especially with my emotions. I no longer wanted to carry the weight of wondering if things would be different if I just told her how I felt.