Page 94 of Perfect Guy
“You’re fucking stubborn,” I curse.
“Likewise,” he tilts his head.
“So mature. How old are you again? Are you sure you’re seven years older than me?” I lean forward, challenging him. “Because I’m the mature one in this situation.” How did this conversation go so wrong? Maybe our relationship has burned out.
I take a deep breath, my shoulders sagging as I surrender. This isn’t the way to go about this conversation.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say. “It’s clear that’s what we’re doing to each other.” We had it all, the recipe for a lasting and loving relationship. Where did that go?
“What are you saying?” Canaan’s eyebrows furrow.
“That I don’t want to make you feel bad. You don’t need the stress. Your recovery depends on your environment, and it’s clear I cause you that.”
“Madelyn.” He gingerly stands from the armchair and rounds the coffee table.
“Please listen to me,” he sits beside me and grabs my hand. It’s such a gentle move that causes me to cry again. This time for sadness at where we are in our relationship.
“I’m sorry. I am. It broke my heart to watch you walk away, but I thought it was best for you. I didn’t want to cause more worry or limit your life. Sure, my recovery is temporary, but the fear of what will happen later on lives deep inside of me. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
“How could you do that? I wouldn’t be able to kick you out of my life like that.” Doesn’t he realize now is when we need to be a stronger unit?
“Because I thought it was best. It was selfless, I promise. I wasn’t myself. I’m still not. I was causing you pain.” He shakes his head, regret shadowing his face.
“I want you to understand that. I need you to understand that it was for your own good. If the tables were turned, I wouldn’t leave you. I wouldn’t be able to. Joy asked me that as well. She accused me of not caring because of that, and I got so angry. How dare she assume that? I love you through everything. That’s when I started processing. I wouldn’t leave you, so it was only natural you wouldn’t leave me. Except I made it so unbearable for you.” He shakes his head, bowing it, and swallows thickly.
His thumb strokes the side of my hand. It’s soothing and painful, staring into his eyes and feeling his touch. Confusion fills me. How can I trust what he’s saying when he has proved otherwise?
“I understand the fear. I can empathize with the worry about complications down the line. What I can’t get past right now is if you really do love me, how you could become so distant. Maybe we’re different in that sense. I would need your support, your companionship, and your love to help me get through this. You don’t need me.” I don’t mean that in an unhealthy way, but the person we love is our anchor during the storm.
“I needed you…so much. But not wanting you to hurt outweighed the need.”
“I need time now. You’re talking openly now when you should’ve spoken to me weeks ago. You should’ve trusted me enough to open up and share your fears, knowing I’d never judge you for them.” I hold the side of his face.
“I would never think less of you because you were afraid, but I’m not sure this won’t happen again if another tragedy hits one of us. Hopefully, it doesn’t, but we can never be sure. Or, as you said, your secondary effects linger through the years. Will you shut me out again, kick me out of your life? What if we stay together and one of us loses our job, or we have financial issues? How will I know you won’t react the same way?”
This situation has only opened a pandora box of possible scenarios couples face. Relationships are hard work, and I need to be sure that my partner is willing to put in the effort as equally as me.
“I’ll prove it to you.” He nods with resolve.
I smile sadly and stroke his cheek. “Maybe. I hope you do, but until then, I need time to sort this all out.” My cracked heart shatters. I know this is the right thing to do at the moment. We both need to reflect and figure out the direction of our relationship.
“I’m not giving up,” he says.
“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll always be here for you.” I kiss his cheek and stand.
“Madelyn James, this will be the last time I let you walk out of my house.” The determination in his voice gives me hope that we can overcome this.
“I’ll see you around, Cane.”
He grasps my hand before I can turn around.
“I need you to know that I do love you.”
Nodding, I wink at him and squeeze his hand. Leaving is a hard-as-hell decision, but I know it’s for the best. It doesn’t mean that it’s the end of us, and I hope it gives us time for a new wonderful beginning.