Situationship [Complete]

37 | Gonna Miss This

I hate weddings.

The priest's words hit me hard, and I could tell they did the same to Teagan. But the moment the ceremony was over, I couldn't catch her. She was running around, coordinating with vendors, organizing things, keeping people in place. All I could do was watch and wait, knowing I'm leaving in a few hours and she's staying through tomorrow.

Our conversation feels unfinished. Everything between us always feels unfinished to me.

I glimpse her standing at the end of the hall, but when I take a step, Brett steps in my way.

"Hey!" he greets me, but I'm beyond disinterested. "Great reception, huh? And that ceremony."

I glare at him and say nothing.

"What? You didn't like it?"

"It's not about the wedding, it's about you," I say. "I'll keep things copacetic today. But tomorrow, when we land, we're done."

"What? Don't tell me this is because of Teagan."

"It's because of everything, Brett. You hurt people—especially her—all the time. I'm done."

I walk past him, but he stops me. "The fuck? Just like that? You're my brother, Heath. She's just your ex."

The laugh that leaves me is as condescending as I intended. She's "just my ex" as much as breathing is "just a thing I do."

Anger twitches on his face. He crosses his arms defensively. "You're really going to let her come between us? She's not worth it, bro."

"She's not?" I ask, matching his stance. "Do you know why I did physical therapy rather than business with you?"

His mouth opens to answer my rhetorical question, but I know he doesn't know the real reason. "Because you . . . The soccer and everything."

I shake my head with a smile. "It wasn't because of my leg or because I was a jock in high school. It's because of Teagan's brother," I correct him. "Do you know how pissed my dad was about that? The reason I have no relationship with him. And speaking of my parents, how is my mom? Do you know? Do you care?"

"Bro, why are you doing this?"

"Because you don't get it. Teagan is an integral part of my life—the parts that make me a better person. Yeah, we've broken each other down, but she will always help build me back up, and I will always do the same for her. She is the best friend I have. And you . . . ?" I don't know how to finish that sentence, not that it matters. "I love her, Brett. And I hate what you do to her. It's not even a choice."

He looks away from me. "So it's like that?"

There's nothing else he can say, because there's no changing him. There's no changing anyone. We grow the way we grow, and sometimes that means we outgrow each other. It doesn't have to be that way. But, as the ladies say, if he wanted to, he would.

"It's like that."

. . .

With the cake eaten and the alcohol running low, the party settles. The dance floor spills from the inside through the opened walls onto the patio outside. The sun starts its descent over the ocean, casting a golden glow over everything. It's almost time for me to leave.

At the corner of the room, Teagan sits at an empty table, slumped in her chair, absentmindedly tracing her lips across the top of her champagne flute.

I don't want the summer to end like this. All I want is to hold her one more time. To apologize, to tell her how much I wish I could go back and stop from hurting her over and over. What's stopping me?

She only snaps out of her trance when I'm two steps away from her. She looks at me with surprise. "Dance with me?" I ask.

I expect a glare—a look of annoyance at least—but all she does is stare. "Okay."

She takes my hand and we go onto the floor, staying toward the edge. I pull her against me, my hand resting on her back while my other takes her hand. We sway back and forth to the slow jazz, neither of us saying a thing.

A hundred words fly through my mind, but I can't put any of them together. All I know is it feels better to have her close to me, to know I still have her for one more dance at least.

Teagan's arm wraps around my shoulder and she lays her chin next to it. Her hand leaves mine, her arm lifting and wrapping around my neck.

Maybe, just maybe, she doesn't hate me anymore. But, I wouldn't blame her if she did.

I run my hands up and down her back. "I'm sorry," I whisper into her neck. The emotion blindsides me, almost choking me. "I'm sorry for everything I did to hurt you."

Her hand holds the back of my neck. "I'm sorry for everything I did, too."

She wraps her other arm around my neck, holding me closer. So much is left unsaid beneath the swoon of the music, so much hidden in our embrace and the slow swaying of our bodies. Surrounded by the crowd, it feels like we're alone. Even with her against me, it feels like the universe is pulling her away.

"I'm gonna miss this," I whisper rather than saying what I want to.

"Miss what?"

"We'll get busy again like we always do. School, work, family shit. We won't see each other three times per week, guaranteed, with the possibility of four," I quote her, getting a little tearful laugh in return. The stupid contract, the forced proximity that our group always requires. All of it is slipping away. "I'm gonna miss having that much time with you."

She nuzzles her head against my neck. "We'll always have summers, though, right?"

Her words calm me and make me want to cry all at the same time. "Right."

"Best ma'am!"

I look up and Teagan turns to face Mary's brother. My hands don't want to leave her skin. I don't want to let her go.

"We need you," he says with a smile.

"Be right there."

She turns back to me, the tears still visible in her eyes. She looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn't. Her hand finds my cheek, her thumb strokes back and forth.

She presses her lips against mine. I breathe her in, hoping time will stop. She leans away, and when she looks into my eyes, I imagine she feels what I'm feeling too.

"See you next summer?" she asks.

"Yeah."

When she turns to leave, my hand slides down her arm to her hand. She gives it a squeeze as she walks away. I feel my heart break when her fingertips slip from my grasp.

I slide my hands into my pockets and watch her give me one last look over her shoulder.

She leaves me again. Alone on the dance floor.

_____

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