Page 85 of Love Scenes

“Can I come in?” I have to ask.

“That’s why I opened it,” he says, almost disdainful.

Inside, all his personal effects are gone. Blanket, whiskey, picture of his mother. Even the teakettle has been put away. There’s no coaster set out for my iced coffee, which is fine. I didn’t get one this morning.

Joe leans against the counter with his arms crossed, while I position myself onto the side of the couch, awkwardly propping up my left leg to feign some sense of normality. “How are you?” I ask. “Can you believe it’s almost the last day?”

“I’m fine. And I can.”

“I heard you’re bringing an ice cream truck onto the lot later.”

“I am.”

“That’s really nice.”

“Thank you.”

“And I think I heard you are donating yourA Little Lucksalary to an organization that helps families of alcoholics?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

I pretend to take another inventory of the space, even though I clocked all the changes immediately upon entering. “Already cleared out, huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” Joe asks.

For a beat we only stare. There’s an instant, squeezing pressure in my throat. It hurts to look at him. His sweet face, always so open, replaced with a steely frown. “I’m here to say sorry.”

“For what?”

I swallow down the urge to say,You know what.

He remains unmoved, arms tightly folded.

“For how I handled myself the other day. I wasn’t expecting you to be so, I don’t know. Vulnerable, I guess. I’m not used to that.” His insistence on remaining stoic makes this whole thing feel like punching a concrete wall. “I reacted out of fear instead of appreciating the fact that you were willing to tell me the full truth.”

For the first time, his posture changes. Only it’s to shake his head, as if disapproving.

“Is there something you want to say?” I ask him. He has a right to be upset. It can’t be that easy for me. A part of me selfishly hoped it would be, anyways. That these past two days of ignoring each other as soon as Tyler calls cut have been enough to make him want to cave.

“I’m quite good not saying a single word to you,” he answers.

It’s so final, blunt as the broad side of a boulder, tumbling down to crush me. “I fucked up, Joe. I know I did. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I want to try.”

“This is all make-believe. Right? So let’s wrap this picture and then we can stoppretendingand go on with our real lives.” For as still as he wants to be, I make note of the way his index finger presses into his bicep, wiggling the skin pulled taut by the tight fold of his arms. That’s enough to encourage me forward, putting pride aside for happiness.

“I’m sorry I ever said that,” I tell him. “You’re right. I was trying to find a way out.”

“What do you want me to do, Sloane? Forgive you? Wrap you up in my arms and continue on with our private business? What happens when we finish? Will I be allowed to see you? Will your family be able to know?”

“Of course. Most of them already do, I guess. We weren’t fooling anybody.”

“This’ll sound like a load of shit, but maybe we were. We had a truly fucked beginning. I will never stop feeling terrible for how I treated you when we first met. I think I’d spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you that I’m not that guy anymore. But the truth is, I’m going to screw up anyways. I know I am. Not like I did. Of course not. There’s a very good reason I’ll never drink again. But I still won’t always be able to get every single thing right. And the way you reacted to what I said. Christ, Sloane. You were ready to brawl. All because I put into words what you already knew.”

He buckles here, his brow furrowing, mouth squeezed into a tight line. His arms break free from their fold, and he’s off to pacing, worrying a well-worn path. “You’re only seeing one side of me. For all the time we’ve spent together, who knows if you’d even like me outside of here. You were the first person to make me truly believe I could be more than what I’ve been. Then I showed you a side of myself you didn’t like, and you went sprinting away from me.”

“I guess I’ve been showing you a side of myself that you might not like too. And to be honest, you’re not having a perfect reaction either.” It’s impossible not to call attention to it now that it’s dawned on me. “You were the one who told me you weren’t afraid of my power. Maybe that’s because I’d never used all of it on you.”

This reunion is turning on me, souring in places I thought would be sweet. Boxing gloves instead of roaming hands.