It was raining outside, so we sat in the car parked outside of the botanical gardens.
He held my hand gingerly in his.
“So what about us?”
What do you mean “us” I angrily thought. Some girl wears a diamond on her finger as a recent gift from you, and you still have the nerve to think there is an us?!
“I’m not quite sure what you mean…” I stated.
I knew exactly what he meant, but I just didn’t like it, nor did I want to go along with his idea. Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada were all labels I was happy with, side chick, however, was not going to be one of them.
He touched my face with his hand. I loved when he did that in the past but at this very moment I despised him more than an angry swarm of bees for it.
“We had something…-didn’t we?” He made sure I was looking in his eyes while he held my face.
Shit, he’s already using the past tense, I thought. That means his fears and doubts are transient but his engagement is obviously not.
“It was nothing, and you know that. Nothing more than friends with benefits.” I completely hid my feelings and to this he looked at me with great surprise.
He was stunned. “What do you mean..?”
He made his choice, and I didn’t want him changing his mind(which he wasn’t going to anyways) on my account rather than his own. Why does he get to move on and still have the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me?
“Look, you’re engaged and I want you to be happy. I wish you well, and think this is going to be a good future for you with her. If you ever need me you will know where to find me.”
And with that I walked out of his muggy silver escalade and never looked back.
Three years later he hasn’t either, and now I lie awake, well past midnight wondering what would have happened if I did.
I know I made the right choice, but I just wish he hadn’t made the wrong one.
There is always a scenic view: 