Page 120 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“Yeah, we’re twins.”

“What?!”

“But I swear, it’s like that was a wake-up call,” Chris says. “I’m in my thirties and I’ve never been in a serious relationship. You’re the closest thing I have to a girlfriend, so why not just make things official?”

“That’s not…” I frown. “That’s not a reason you introduce someone to your family, Chris.”

“Then what is?” he asks. “Luce, I’m crazy about you.”

“Since when?” I startle. I’ve never in my life thought that Chris wascrazyabout me. Attracted to me, yes. Sees me as the convenient option, yes. But not crazy about me. “You treat me like shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true!” I counter. “Everything and anything we’ve done was always at your convenience. Whenever you’re free, whenever you’re not tired, wheneveryou’rehorny.”

“Lucy, I have a busy schedule,” he says, defending himself. “My hours on set aren’t easy—”

“You’ve doneoneshort film and a guest spot onGrey’s Anatomyin the year I’ve known you…and you didn’t even have any lines.”

“Okay, where is this coming from?” He pulls back. “I’m telling you I want to be exclusive andI’mthe bad guy? I thought this is what you’d want.”

I have shown him no signs of wanting to be in a serious relationship. “Whywould you think that?”

“Because that’s what women want!” Chris counters, baffled.

“You’re…” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. I’ve had this conversation with too many men in my lifetime.“Look, Chris, you’re not the bad guy. I just don’t think you’re doing this for the right reasons. You’re doing this because you think you’re losing me. We have a good thing going and to keep it you think,Sure, I can slap on whatever label Lucy wants to give this, but nothing needs to change.And a few wasted years later, you’ll realize that you didn’t want any of this in the first place.”

The words linger between us and Chris shakes his head. “That’s not true, Lucy.”

“I don’t think this is working anymore,” I say. I instantly remember Marsh saying the same thing to me last night, and it stings.

“What’s not working?”

“This.” I gesture between the two of us.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Chris’s face drops.

I truly cannot help but laugh. “Breaking up with you? There’s no way you thought we were together this whole time.”

“I’ve hardly been with anyone else since meeting you.”

“Chris…this past year was not a relationship,” I tell him, easing up. “I’m sorry. I am truly grateful for the time we had together, and you’re a kind person who I know means well. But this was not a relationship, and if you think it was, this is definitely the right choice for both of us.”

“Lucy, I thought we had something good going here,” he says, a candid look of disappointment on his face. The thing is, Chris isn’t a bad person. But I’m starting to think that maybeIam.

“Yeah, well,” I sigh apologetically, “you thought wrong.”

Monday goes byslow.I stare at my blank Word document and have never felt more uninspired than I do right now. My next story is due at threep.m.,and I can’t for the life of me decide what to write about. It feelstoo soonto talk about the downfall ofmy relationship, but coming up with a new story feels almost too painful.

But as most writers do, I push through. I push through and write about what I’m feeling and hope that it steers me in the right direction. I’ve learned that when it comes to writing, sometimes you need to write all the wrong things, all the feelings that you have that will never see the light of day, just to get it out.

So, I start writing about how I felt this weekend. I write, pretending that the conversation with Marsh and me never happened and that it ended before I ever said anything. The Lucy writing this article kept her stupid mouth shut, accepted the breakfast burrito, and just enjoyed the rest of the weekend.ThatLucy didn’t regret opening up about her mom and dad, she didn’t have meaningless revenge sex with Chris, and she told Marsh how she really felt. She admitted to not only Marsh but also to herself that shefeltsomething and that she doesn’t want whatever they’re doing to end.

The words start to pour out of me, and before I know it, I’ve written one of the longest stories in a while. I reread the article and feel like I havesomethinghere, but I’m not sure if I should publish it.

I have Jonah read it while we sit outside in the courtyard at lunch. The entire time I’m holding my breath, anticipating his thoughts.

“Lucy,” he breathes out, and his gaze averts from his laptop to me. “This is great. You should absolutely publish it.”