The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,119
When you left, you took more with you than a bag. I loved you. The fact that you could just walk away without a backward glance taught me a valuable lesson about love—it’s destructive. And cruel.”
As soon as I say it, I question if I still believe that. The words feel rehearsed. It’s a breakthrough for me—and I can’t help thinking I have Amelia to thank for it. She’s helped me see that I might deserve a second chance at love. That maybe it can fulfill rather than obliterate. That she could be the one for me.
The thought catches me off guard.
All this time, I was worried that I might still be in love with Shana. I hadn’t thought to ask myself . . . what if I love Amelia?
I can’t think like that. I’ve already made my decision, and even if I change my mind now, it might be too late.
Shana’s expression smooths. “I never meant to hurt you like that, honest. Try to understand that I left so I wouldn’t hurt you any more than I already had. But the way I did it was selfish. I got scared and ran when I should’ve talked to you. I’m not like that anymore.”
I stand up, push my bottle across the bar, and leave a few bills for Buck. “Then we understand each other. You’re not the same. Neither am I. We are not the same.”
I walk to the exit, in desperate need of a cigarette. Her boots click against the wood floor as she follows me. “That can be a good thing,” she says. “We both had to grow up.”
I push out into the mild night and stop. I don’t have any cigarettes. When I turn, Shana’s there, holding one out for me.
Reluctantly, I take it from her. “You don’t even know if you want this,” I say. “You’re bored, so you’re creating drama.”
“If I wanted drama, I would’ve done this tomorrow at Bell’s party,” she says. “I would’ve made a scene. That’s not what I want. I’m trying to be better.”
“This is you not making a scene?” I ask, exhaling smoke, looking down my nose at her. It doesn’t shock me one bit that she knows about Bell’s party.
“Yes. I still love you.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Andrew, stop it. Stop being a jerk.”
“What do you want me to say, Shana? Give me one fucking word I can say to you.”
“Do you really, honestly not love me anymore?”
I understand why she finds that so appalling. I didn’t even know, until tonight, that I’m no longer in love with her. It wouldn’t matter if I were. It’d never be enough for me to let her back into our lives in any meaningful way. “I promised myself I’d never fall in love again after you left.”
“And I’m sorry I hurt you that badly, but in a way, I’m not. I don’t want anyone else to have you. I guess I’m still a little selfish. I want you for myself.”
“You had me. You left.”
She fists her hands, and finally, her façade drops. I see it happen, because I can read her just as well now as I could then. “You act like you were a fucking saint, Andrew. You weren’t. Do you think I just up and left for no reason?”
I work my jaw side to side. For so long, I’ve placed all the blame on her shoulders so I wouldn’t have to face the truth. “Why’d you go?” I ask, but I know why. I always have.
“There’s no one magic answer,” she says. “I didn’t want to be a mom. I told you that so many fucking times, and you told me I’d change my mind when the baby came. You said if I didn’t want to get pregnant, I should’ve been more careful. What about you?” She points a finger at my chest. “You had nothing to do with it?”
My heart thumps. I pushed her into motherhood, then expected her to love it because that was how normal people felt. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time. It took time and distance for me to understand it might’ve been hard for her day in and day out caring for a baby she didn’t want.
“And after I had Bell, you gave me no support. Everything was about her. Everything. When I cried or complained, you couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t want that perfect little angel of a girl. You made me feel like some kind of monster.”