Part Ten
My decision wasn't easy. The last thing I wanted to do was let you go. I didn't want to stop feeling what I felt for you. What I wanted most, in fact, was for you to be the one I held a future with, for you to be the one I had chosen years ago.
But the guilt for betraying my wife overwhelmed me. I knew I must do everything in my power to make her life a happy one. She deserved nothing less, and I was reminded of this every time she looked at me with those big brown eyes, full of undeserved trust and adoration.
I was determined to find a way to kill those feelings I still had for you. I was going against everything I wanted, going against every fiber of my being. But what other option was there?
Would I have made this decision had you not left me again? Had you not avoided me so exquisitely? I don't honestly know. But why should I have dwelt on that? You did leave me. You wanted nothing more to do with me, and so I had to move on, make the best of what I still had, undeserving or not.
Feeling refreshed after a three week honeymoon, I returned to work with only a very small case of nerves. It was the first time I would see you since the wedding, the first time I would actually spend time with you since our clandestine night at my flat. Ron had planned a lunch between the three of us to welcome me home. It was time for us to get together alone before the dinner later that night at the Burrow.
Despite my nerves, I felt confident. My three weeks away from you had surely helped to rid me of those inconvenient feelings, and if not, I would surely be able to handle them at the very least. My trip with Ginny to the south of France had been wonderful. I focused almost entirely on her. I was almost able to keep you off my mind. It was only in the few times I spent alone that you crept into my thoughts, like in the handful of showers I was able to take alone, or after she had fallen asleep beside me.
After a moderately successful near-month of avoiding the thought of you, I believed myself up to the challenge of seeing you. So it was with an almost perfect ease that I walked into the restaurant around noon that day. I scanned the tables until my eyes settled on you, your hair pulled up and a glass of wine at your lips. You sat alone. You were frowning as you checked your watch.
A tingle ran the length of my spine at the sight of you. I swallowed, plastered a smile on my face, and approached you, hoping I was right, hoping I was up for this.
I greeted you warmly, with a smile, and slid into a seat across from you. I daren't hug you as I normally would have tried. It was best not to push it.
Your smile was a weak one compared to mine, but you met my eyes, said hello, welcomed me home. Your eyes looked at me curiously, warily, but you were holding something back, I knew. And I tried not to show it, tried to act calmly, as if nothing deeper than friendship had ever been shared between us. Still, a small part of me expected, yearned to see what I hadn't seen in nearly a month, what that small part of me dearly missed.
I spoke of nothing to keep from thinking of everything. Our drinks arrived before I wondered aloud where Ron was. You shrugged and took a sip of your full glass of wine, eyes averted and quiet.
After a moment, I looked away, too, silently admonishing myself for hoping to see the very thing that would surely be my undoing. I took a long sip of my beer, feeling as if I was drowning in the silence. For the first time in a long time, I desperately wanted Ron to arrive. He'd give me something else to think about, give me something to laugh at, give me a moment to almost forget what we had done.
I felt guilty for feeling that way, and it was the most bizarre sensation. Why should I feel any guilt for that? I had no obligation to you beyond friendship yet here I was, hating myself for thinking negatively of you, being with you, being silent with you.
It was just so fucking hard. I was wrong in thinking I was up to this - facing you and seeing nothing, feeling so much, wanting so much. I wanted to leave, get away from you. And I wanted to stay, get closer to you. I wanted to reach across the table, force you to look at me. I wanted to take you into my arms, make you love me.
Ron's arrival covered up the sound of my sigh. He shouted my name jubilantly as he walked to the table. Both relieved and disappointed, I stood from my seat with a huge grin. I was happy to see him again. He reached for my hand and pulled me into a hug, giving me a brotherly pat on the back before releasing me and taking his place beside you.
You gave him a smile, a hug, a small kiss on the lips, for which I looked away, took another drink of beer. It didn't really help.
No, I wasn't up for this after all. Would I ever be? Did I even, really, want to be?