The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,102
only been a few hours, probably. So word might not have traveled far. The board might even still be in session, trying to figure out what to do. How to play this.
“Okay. Good.”
“Did you just say ‘Good’?” Ethan looked like he’d taken a softball to the chin.
It wasn’t exactly something they could play off as a misunderstanding, but between the board and maybe Clara, they’d think of something to make it right.
“I just mean it’s easier.”
Ethan flinched. “Is it?”
“Yes,” she said simply. Didn’t he get it? All that mattered was the board still wanted him. They just wanted him without Naomi. She could fix it this way. “You’ll just have to break up with me. That’s what they want, right?”
Ethan’s eyes went hard. “I don’t care what they want. I’m not going to break up with you. I love you.”
It was stunning, the way everything in her was dying, and that sentence still seeped into the dusty soil of her heart and gave it life.
“You love me?” Fuck. “Okay.” Breathe. Keep breathing. “Okay. You’re right.” It wasn’t really fair to ask him. Not after that. “I’ll have to do it.”
His backyard was so quiet. No sounds from the road. Just wind through the trees. Just her own frantic heartbeat in her ears. Ethan’s sharp inhale.
“Naomi.”
A sick sense of triumph pumped through her like adrenaline. Making her jittery, a twisted euphoria. She knew what to do. If she could just hold on to it. Seeing it through, righting this wrong, that would be enough. It had to be enough.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice cracking against her will. Stop it. Stop. “We came close, didn’t we?” She needed to hear him say yes. That their love counted for something.
“We’re not—I’m not going back there,” he said. “It’s done.”
Naomi shook her head, indulged the impulse to kiss his frowning mouth and tasted salt. “No, sweetheart. It’s not.”
Ethan reached for her hand. “I need you.”
What dangerous words, and oh, how she wanted to keep them.
Naomi closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him and keep going.
What was the name of that guy, the one who’d gotten stuck on a mountain with his arm trapped under a boulder? He’d had to saw through his own muscle, his own bone, with a pocketknife or something, to get free. To survive.
The human body must send something, some chemical, up to the brain, dulling the pain, the horror. And later, that same adrenaline cocktail must dissolve the memory too. Take care of making it hazy and dull. So people could forget, at least for a few moments, at least years later, that they’d ever had to swallow so much pain. Naomi was grateful for her body in a new way tonight. Grateful that after all this, she could surrender and let it carry her, all on its own.
She could do this. Could face the perfect temptation of having him join her as an outlier. Of them building a life together that made everyone else furious. She could deny the dream of that. The way it reinforced every truth she’d used to build her life.
This must be growth, right? Putting the community’s interests over her own. Letting him love thousands of people instead of just her.
This was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? This was their only option.
If she could just keep saying that. Keep believing it. She could walk out of here on the strength of her own two legs. The edges of her vision darkened a little.
Shouldn’t there be some freedom in this ending? Shouldn’t she get to relish regaining her independence? Cutting all the new ties that had bound her to organized religion and ordinary people?
There wasn’t.
She didn’t.
“You will always be the best thing that ever happened to me,” she told him, hands chasing every part of his face, his arms, his chest, trying to commit them to memory, trying to force herself to say good-bye.
She felt like she’d been poisoned and had to spit the antidote back in the grass.
“No,” Ethan said again, but there wasn’t as much behind it this time. His whole body shook. “Don’t do this. Please.”
Naomi might love him until the day she died.
Wouldn’t that be an exquisite tragedy? She had to douse a hysterical laugh.
She held Ethan tighter and wished she could pour herself into him, abandon the pain flowing through her own body.
Even though she was still standing there. Still holding him. She was already gone.