“Hey, better I found out before it went any further and she spent every dime, right?”
“True, but it’s still a shame.”
“It is, because I really loved her, and I thought she loved me. I guess she did, at least for a while.” He props his elbow on the table and rubs the side of his face. “As soon as I got the money, she changed. She went from being a fun, sweet girl to a demanding bitch. And ya know what? I would have given her anything, but the way she treated me? No fucking way. She just assumed, and expected, that she had free reign to my money and could spend it on whatever she wanted, and demand all sorts of crazy shit from me, like she was entitled to it.”
“That’s terrible. My faith in people just dwindles the more I hear stories like that. Doesn’t anyone value love and commitment anymore? Or is everyone just about getting something better for themselves?”
“Um, yeah, that’s pretty much how it seems to be, doesn’t it?”
“It does. Are you still in love with her?” I blurt the last part out before I can change my mind about asking. As much as I’m afraid to hear the answer, I need to hear it, because I’m slowly falling for him and I don’t think I can compete with the memory of a girl he might still be in love with. I can’t take another hit to my heart just when I’m finally starting to feel a little bit of happiness again.
He leans back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling. “I’ll always care about her and miss what we had, but no, I’m not in love with her anymore.” Sitting forward again, he studies me silently. “And how about you? Are you still in love with him?”
I’ve reached a point where I can answer that question with certainty. “No, not anymore. Like you, of course, I’ll always care about him, but he’s just hurt me too much and destroyed too much. He’s not the man I fell in love with.” Lukas listens intently, chewing slowly, relief evident in his eyes at my admission. “I guess my parents were right,” I continue. “They told me years ago, when I got pregnant and married, that we were way too young to make such a big commitment, that people change too much, especially in their twenties, and don’t really know what they want in life yet. And looking back on that, I think that’s true in a lot of ways, although I hate to admit it to my parents.”
He runs his finger over the rim of his wine glass, his eyes following the circle he’s making on the crystal edge. “Do you feel that way about me?” he finally asks, shifting his eyes up to meet mine. “Do you think, because I’m in my twenties, that I don’t know what I want? That in a few years I’ll be different?” He tilts his head a little. “That I might grow away from you?”
I look down at my plate, needing a break from his intense eyes for a few seconds, having to remind myself to breathe. Sometimes, like just now, when our eyes meet, that intense, warm vibrating feeling rushes into me again, making me feel like I’ve forgotten something and then all of a sudden remembered it again in one turbulent shudder of my heart.
“You felt that just now, didn’t you? It scares you,” he states.
I shake my head, ignoring what he just said for now because that feeling does scare me, but not exactly in a bad way. “Yes, I admit I’m worried because you’re still in your early twenties, and what you want, who you want, is most likely going to change.”
“Not gonna happen. I know myself.”
“People change sometimes as they get older. It doesn’t mean it has to be negative, just different. People grow and evolve and sometimes want different things than what they thought they wanted.”
“I could say the same about you. In five years, you might change what you want in life, too.”
I smile across the table at him. “That’s true.”
“Is what you want now the same as what you wanted when you were in your twenties?” he asks.
I take one last bite of my dinner and weigh my answer carefully. “What I want is the same. Who I want to share it with has changed. Love and commitment has always been the most important things for me.”
He winks at me, picks up our plates, and carries them across the room to the sink. “Don’t even try to help,” he quips, not looking back at me. I watch him rinse the dishes and place them in the dishwasher, checking out his ass as he bends down. I tried not to, but his body just commands attention.