She took another sip. So far, so good.
But then she turned and put the cup on the kitchen counter, and when she faced him again her arms were folded, eyes narrowed with the same suspicion they’d held when he walked in.
“Blake,” she started, and he took a step forward, holding up his hand.
“Don’t say anything,” he pleaded before she could give him the piece of her mind he so deserved. “I’m here because I have to explain.”
He’d thought about it the whole flight over. But in the end there was no planning. He didn’t have the perfect thing to say, because there was no perfect thing. There was only the truth, and the force of his feelings for her. He stood in the doorway to her adorable apartment, filled with so much Julia and messier than he’d expected—books, clothes, an empty bottle of red wine—and spoke.
“I fucked up,” he said. “I fucked up as soon as I got on that plane to Santiago. No, even earlier—as soon as I walked out that door. Don’t think I didn’t realize I’d made a mistake.”
Julia sank into a kitchen chair. She didn’t invite him to sit with her so he leaned against the counter, taking her in.
He went on.
“I was afraid of what I had with you, what I felt for you. I thought that if I ran away from it I could keep going with my life as though nothing had ever happened. That way I wouldn’t lose anything. I wouldn’t have to risk being hurt.”
Julia looked away, the pain of what he’d done clearly etched on her face.
“You could have come back,” she said quietly. “You could have met me at the airport. You could have called me from Chile. You could have emailed at any point during your trip.” But even though her voice was small, she wasn’t backing down. Her eyes locked into his and held him there. “You could have done any number of things to give me some kind of sign that you cared. That the week we spent together was more than some random fling.”
A million protests came into his mind. That it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t known what to do, she hadn’t come after him either, and anyway what did it matter—he was here now. But he pushed them aside. That was the old Blake, making excuses and running away. Instead he said simply, “I know.”
She seemed surprised by his admission. “Then why are you here?” she asked, confused.
Blake sighed. “I went out to dinner.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I went out to dinner with Jamie and his new girlfriend, Laura.”
Julia’s eyebrows shot up. “So Chris is still with Lukas?”
“Shocking, isn’t it? I haven’t been in touch with her, out of loyalty to Jamie, but she included me in an email announcing that they’re opening up that inn on the coast like they said. But that’s not the point.” He paused, considering. “Actually, I guess it sort of is. They’re happy doing what they want to do, building the life they want to have together—even if it doesn’t quite make sense to me.”
“It sounds like they decided to never come back to the real world.” Julia rolled her eyes.
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” He was getting excited now, wanting her to see. “It is the real world—for them at least. It’s the world they want to be in, the life they want to live. They’re not holding themselves back because it’s complicated or impractical or not what they were expecting or whatever else people might say. They’re doing it. And Jamie and Laura—they’re doing it, too.”
“You like her? The new girlfriend, I mean,” Julia asked.
“They work together. She’s brilliant, caring, great for Jamie. Plus she wants to settle down, have a family, travel sometimes but have a home in Australia with him. It’s still early, but I’ve never seen him so…happy. Content. They click in this way that’s so obvious. As soon as you see them, you know.”
“So you had dinner with them?” Julia prodded, getting him back to that strange revelation that had changed everything for him. Or not changed it, but brought it into focus so clearly that for the first time, he couldn’t turn away.
“It’s not like I hadn’t seen them together before,” he continued. “But there was this night when I’d been working late. I’m writing a new show. I kind of thought it up when I was with you, and I’ve been trying to get it into production.” He shook his head. He didn’t want to get into that yet. “Anyway, when I met up with them, I was late. Tired. Focused on other things. I got to the bar after them and I was looking around, trying to find where they’d sat, and it was this moment—it’s hard to explain, but there was this moment when I saw them before they saw me, and it was so unscripted, so incredibly intimate. So real. I saw the way they were looking at each other, laughing over their drinks, and she touched his arm and I—”
Blake broke off, looking away. He felt his voice catching. It had been ridiculous even then. What he’d seen hadn’t been significant. It was what couples did when they were together, in their own little bubble even when they were out in the world.
But it was exactly that normalcy that got to him. How comfortable and happy they were. How they’d found each other at last. He’d walked up to them and sat down and ordered a beer and they were glad to see him; it wasn’t like he’d interrupted. But even when they were talking and laughing, he kept thinking about the way Jamie and Laura looked at each other when they thought no one was looking. When there was no one else in their world.
It wasn’t just that he wanted that—to love someone, and be loved in return. It was that in that instant somehow it all slammed into him. That he’d had that—once, briefly—and it wasn’t with Kelley. It wasn’t with any other ex.
It was with Julia, in Brazil. At dinner with her, walking with her, holding hands with her on the beach. It was trembling in her arms after they’d jumped off a cliff and let themselves soar. It was early in the morning when she rolled over, half asleep, and curled her body against his. That wasn’t a time-out from the rest of his life. That was his life. That was what he’d shared with her.
He tried to explain all of this, but he wasn’t sure she understood. It was so clear in his mind and so convoluted when it came out in words.
“You want what Jamie has,” Julia finally said.
“No.” Blake shook his head. “I want what I had but was too wrapped up in myself and my plans to see.”
Julia looked at him intently. “What is it that you had?”
“I spent a week in Brazil falling in love with you, Julia. It took me five months to fully accept that that isn’t changing, and that nothing I feel for you is going away. That may be five months too long,” he said before she could remind him. “It’s five months I wish I hadn’t had to spend, and that you hadn’t had to go through. But that’s how long it took me to be more sure of this than I’ve ever been of anything in my life. That’s how long I could hold out before I knew that if I didn’t come see you, I’d break.”
She took a sharp breath. When she spoke, her voice was pained. “I tried to forget you. I tried to pretend it didn’t mean what it did. Because I thought that for you, it was over. You didn’t call. You barely wrote. I told myself I had to accept that we were done, because there was no other sign that we weren’t.”
Blake pulled up a chair beside her and leaned close, taking her hands in his. “This isn’t the kind of conversation for the phone. This isn’t the kind of thing I could email you and say.” He ran his thumb over her palm, wondering how such a simple touch could do so much to him. “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to love me back. But I had to tell you anyway. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get the chance to look you in the eyes and say I’m sorry.”
He looked at her and watched her scan him, trying to read something there. He let himself face her, open, his thumb gently circling the center of her palm. He didn’t know where this was going, but he had to wait and see.