I raise an eyebrow at him.
He shakes his head at me with a grin. “I’m not seriously going to do it, but the idea is tempting.”
“Yeah I imagine it is.” I’m starting to wish I hadn’t brought this up. All I have done is make Brett stress out and remember he has this awful thing hanging over his head.
I’m saved from trying to steer the conversation away from the decision and onto something a bit less stressful when the waiter arrives again. He brings our desserts, tops up our wine and takes our empty plates away.
19
The break from the conversation is exactly what we needed, and Brett starts talking about something completely different which I’m glad about.
As we finish up our desserts, Brett is telling me a funny story from his childhood, and I’m trying to listen, really I am, but suddenly, it feels like the whole room is closing in on me and like the buzz of conversation around us is too loud, like everyone is yelling. Their quiet laughter feels magnified, like everyone in the restaurant is laughing too loudly, right in my face. Before I know it, our desserts are finished and we’re just finishing up our wine, and I know once that’s done, that we’re done and I hate the feeling. I absolutely fucking hate it.
I want to know everything there is to know about Brett, but at the same time, everything he tells me, every story he shares with me, only makes me like him more, and I’m in deep enough without listening to another story and falling for him a little bit more.
“Opal?” Brett says, pulling me out of my head.
He puts his hand over mine and the sparks fly up my arm. The room feels normal again, the moment of claustrophobia passing. No one is talking too loud, the walls aren’t moving closer to me with every breath. It had been an illusion, brought on by the fear of losing Brett, and his touch reminds me that for now at least, he’s still right here with me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine. That nothing is wrong. I was just a million miles away for a moment. It’s the sensible thing to do. But I see the way he’s looking at me, with concern in his eyes. His thumb moves gently over the back of my hand. And in that moment, I feel like I owe him the truth. That maybe he’ll even understand. “I can’t get past this feeling that I’m meant to be saying goodbye to you tonight. But every cell in my body is screaming at me not to do it,” I say softly.
His grip tightens on my hand for a moment. “I know,” he says.
Letting out a sigh, I speak again, “I know we both came into this weekend knowing that’s all it could be. But the thing is Brett, this hasn’t gotten you out of my system. It’s made me want you more. And I just can’t imagine what it’s going to be like tomorrow and every day after that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pretend like I’m not affected every time you say my name, or every time I look up and catch you looking in my direction. I guess I thought I was strong enough to do this, and only now, too late, am I seeing that I’m not,” the last few words come out in a rush.
I didn’t mean to say quite so much, but once I started, I couldn’t stop.
“I get it Opal,” Brett says. The same turmoil clouding his eyes, the same pain I feel making them shine intensely. “I really do get it. If it makes you feel any better, I feel exactly the same way.”
Does it make me feel any better? In some ways, it’s good to know this isn’t one sided. That I’m not some dumb girl who’s fallen for a guy who only ever saw her as a bit of fun. But in another way, maybe it would be easier to let Brett go if he didn’t feel this too. I would have to learn to be without him if he didn’t want me. But he does want me and I don’t want to learn to be without him. “I can’t just pretend like this didn’t happen Brett. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says quickly. “But what do you expect me to do about it? And that’s not sarcasm. I’m genuinely asking you, because if you have a solution to any of this, I’d be only too happy to give it a shot.”
I do have a solution to this. One I never thought I would even consider. I don’t think Brett will like it one little bit, and I’m sure he won’t agree to it, but I’ve said this much, and I decide I might as well throw myself all in. Because if I don’t suggest this, then I know I will always wonder what could have happened if I did. What could have become of us if Brett had agreed to give my plan a shot? If I don’t speak up now, I know I will regret it forever. “Well, I was thinking that maybe this doesn’t have to end here.”
Brett opens his mouth to speak, but
