it finally catches up to me when I do a rather glorious nose-dive over a small moss covered log. I curse as my body makes contact with the ground in a pretty thunderous display, of the most embarrassing kind. I wince as my brain registers the pain. “Someone should really be on top of clearing this damn path,” I mutter under my breath.
I see Weston off in the distance, closing in on me. The anger on his face has morphed into concern. He kneels down when he reaches me. “Are you okay?”
I wince. “Yes, I’m fine,” I tell him, cataloging the damage.
“You have a pretty nasty scratch on your wrist,” he says, pointing out the obvious. “Does it feel broken?”
I study the dirt covered bloody scratch as I rotate my wrist. “I think it just might be a little sprained, definitely not broken.”
“Here,” he says, pulling me gently to him. “Let’s get back to the car.”
We walk in silence side by side. I might be in pain, but I like this much better. I didn’t want our last goodbye to be so full of anger and drama.
When we finally reach his car, he pulls out a first aid kit from the glove department.
I laugh out loud. “Only someone like you would have a first aid kit in their ultra-cool sports car.”
He smiles as he pulls out some rubbing alcohol and a large Band-Aid. “You know me, I like to be prepared.”
It stings at he cleans the scratch, but he’s so gentle, I hardly feel it. All I can feel are the butterflies scattering all across my insides. His eyes are still so beautiful and kind when he asks me, “Does this feel okay? Doesn’t hurt too much?”
“No,” I say, the word barely a whisper.
He presses the Band-Aid gently on my skin, with the care of mother who’s soothing a child’s injury. And it occurs to me this is why I feel so safe around him, so loved. He takes care of me like no one ever has, not even my own mother. My eyes start to prick and I close them and swallow hard.
I lean into him and press my lips to his for one last kiss — a sweet chaste kiss. He doesn’t try to turn it into something else. He knows it can’t be more. Instead, he takes me into his arms and holds me tight.
And here it is, our proper beautiful goodbye.
When I get home, I fall into pieces on the sofa.
Gabe instantly drops by my side. “What happened?’
There is no sense hiding the truth from Gabe at this point. He knows I had very strong feelings for the man. He knows that I loved him. I almost had a child with this man. I shared the most intimate parts of myself with him. And I’ve never been great at goodbyes. No, there’s no sense in hiding my pain.
Gabe takes me in his strong arms. “You said goodbye?”
“Y-yes,” I tell him, the word buried between sobs. “You…know how I hate…goodbyes.”
He rubs my back softly. “I know. I’m sorry you have to say goodbye to so many people. But it’s for the best.”
I wipe my nose with the heel of my hand, drenching the large Band-Aid on my wrist. “I know. It’s best for us…for our family.”
He rests his chin against the top of my head. “I wish I could save you from this. I wish we could go back in time and not go to that uppity restaurant. Then we would have never…”
“I know.” I say, not wanting him to say the words. For all that has happened, I no longer wish to take back the past. I don’t want to change a thing. Every moment I’ve shared with Weston; every kiss, every smile, those moments filled the pages of my book, just like the ones I’ve shared with Gabe and the girls, the kids from school, and Gwen.
He was part of my life.
Gabe slowly tears himself from my arms. He looks at me, his big hazel eyes gentle. There’s no anger in him. “I know he loved you,” he says. “I’ve said he didn’t before, but that’s because I didn’t want to believe it. I could tell just by the way he looked at you.”
I stare at him, not quite knowing what to say. I can’t believe he’s said the words, finally admitted what he knew all along.
“But just know that I love you too,” he goes on, his voice full of emotion. “I love you