Too Late to Call Me Yours

I knew Adrian wouldn't disappear after one conversation. What surprised me was that his next message contained no demand.

I WAS WRONG. ABOUT SEBASTIAN. ABOUT YOU. ABOUT MORE THINGS THAN I KNOW HOW TO NAME. IF YOU EVER WANT TO HEAR AN APOLOGY WITHOUT AN EXCUSE, I'LL GIVE YOU ONE.

I read it twice, then put my phone away.

Julian found me in the library that evening. "You seem distracted."

"Adrian sent a message."

Julian sat in the chair opposite me. "Do you want to answer?"

"I don't know. Part of me wants to hear him say everything out loud. Part of me is afraid it will hurt exactly as much as before."

Julian looked toward the dark window. "I can't promise I'll enjoy the idea of you seeing him."

"I know."

"But I won't make the decision for you."

I studied him. "Are you afraid I'll go back?"

He was silent for a moment. "Yes."

The admission hurt more than I expected. Julian, who seemed so certain of everything, could still be frightened because of me.

"Come here," I said.

He crossed the room. I took his hands.

"I loved Adrian," I told him. "That's true. Some days I might still grieve what I thought we had. But grief isn't a plan to go back."

"I don't want you to feel pressured to reassure me."

"I'm not. I want you to know."

He bent his head and rested his forehead against mine.

"I love you," I whispered.

He drew a shaky breath. "I love you, too."

We stayed like that until the library lights clicked off automatically. Then we laughed in the dark, groping for the wall switch like two very foolish men.

A week later, Adrian asked to meet in a public café near my studio. I agreed to twenty minutes. Julian drove me there, squeezed my hand, and went to buy groceries without asking to accompany me inside.

Adrian arrived early. He stood when I approached. There was no gift on the table.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

I sat. "You said you wanted to apologize."

He looked down at his coffee. "When I first met you, you reminded me of Sebastian."

I had known. Hearing it plainly still stung.

"I told myself that was why I let you stay close," he continued. "Then somewhere along the way I started depending on you. I knew you'd remember every detail of my life. I knew you'd forgive me. I never stopped to consider what that cost you."

"You knew I wanted you to acknowledge me."

"Yes."

"And you wouldn't."

He swallowed. "I was ashamed of needing someone so much. I thought if I admitted it, I'd lose control."

"So you let me feel ashamed instead."

"Yes."

For once, he didn't defend himself.

"I was cruel to you," he said. "I can see that now."

I took a slow breath. "Thank you for saying it."

Hope flared in his eyes. I had to extinguish it.

"But I'm not coming back."

He looked away. "Is it because of Bennett?"

"It's because of what happened between us. Julian didn't make me leave. I did."

Adrian nodded once. He seemed to be struggling with the idea that the person he'd always relied on to bend had finally become immovable.

"I can introduce you properly," he said. "To everyone. I can tell them you were my partner."

"You can tell them the truth if you want. But it won't change mine."

My twenty minutes were almost over. I stood.

"I hope you find a way to be different with the next person you love," I said.

"Elliot."

I stopped.

"Was there ever a time you were happy with me?"

I thought of a rainy afternoon in college when Adrian had brought me soup without being asked. Of our first Christmas morning. Of a hundred tiny moments I'd held onto long after they'd stopped being enough.

"Yes," I said. "That's why leaving was so hard."

Outside, Julian wasn't waiting at the curb. He had trusted me to walk away on my own. I stood beneath a maple tree, took out my phone, and called him.

"All done?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

I looked up through the branches. "Ready to come home."