Why I Love Him

Chapter Sixteen

Since the time I left my apartment in a hurry to get away from Wayne, we haven't talked. He tried to call me a few times, but I ignored his calls and watched the screen of my phone with a blank look on my face as it rang. After a few days of trying to call me, he stopped. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried about this. Wayne didn't show up at my place of work either, and I smoothly transitioned from working behind the counter at the mall to having the proper office job I had always wanted.

It's been weeks now, and I still haven't heard anything from Wayne—not even a text. I wondered if he was waiting for me to reach out to him first, and I wondered if I ever would.

You see, I'm in a place where I'm not sure what I want. I love Wayne. I know I love him, but recently I've been challenging that part of me that was so quick to profess my love for him. And the little cracks that were being made by my doubt were slowly being plastered over with thoughts of Edward. Edward and his friendly smile. The Edward that was still my friend even though I had hurt him badly—even though I knew that him being around me and listening to my relationship woes made his heartache.

I bit down on my bottom lip, shaking my head before staring down at the work I had in front of me.

Am I falling in love with Edward? I wondered before shaking my head right after. I tried to concentrate on work, but it was hard. The thought of being in love with anyone but Wayne was scary, but I thought about the possibility with Edward now and again. The thought had me shuddering and retreating into my own head.

I've been in love with Wayne for years. Years of loving someone didn't just go away like that, but I couldn't help entertaining the possibility that I was falling out of love with him. Was I falling in love with Edward instead, or did I just wish I was? Being in love with Wayne was painful, and maybe I was subconsciously trying to rid myself of that pain.

A sigh of relief left my lips when I was done with the work I was assigned for today. It was four in the evening now, and I had about an hour until I could leave my workplace. I wasn't really acquainted with any of my co-workers. I was withdrawn, and after repeatedly refusing to go out for lunch with my co-workers everyone just stopped asking.

A small smile formed on my lips when I thought of my therapist. She would be alarmed by my behavior. We were working on trying to get me to interact with more people. She mentioned that a symptom of depression was withdrawal from people and social situations.

My therapist. I thought, nibbling on my bottom lip. I was still seeing her, and just knowing Wayne was paying for things even though I had stopped talking to him had me uneasy. I made a promise to start paying for the sessions myself, and I also wanted to pay him back for all the times he had paid for me. If (and an emphasis on if) I eventually decide to cut things off with him it would be hard to do if he was still a big part of my life like he was now. I wanted to be able to end things without 'buts' and exceptions.

My lips quivered at the thought of him disappearing from my life again. I took up a pen and twirled it between my fingers to occupy my mind instead. If I was so upset by a hypothetical, what made me think I could survive being completely done with him.

What do I even want? I asked myself as I tried to make meaning of the push and pull game we've been at for months. Despite everything I was still afraid to have a relationship with him, and we'd taken a hundred steps back when Wayne decided no keeping his secret from me.

I was brought out of my thoughts when my phone buzzed. My eyes moved to look at the screen. It was my alarm that had gone off. It's five already? I wondered, reaching out to take my phone before pocketing it. Time did go by quickly when you were lost in your own thoughts.

I packed up my things, locking up before leaving the building. I was going to take the train home. I smiled, realizing that in a few months I would be able to afford my own care. I wasn't even sure if I still remembered how to drive.

"You're smiling." The sound of Wayne's voice brought me to a halt. I swallowed down the spit that had built up at the back of my throat before looking up to lock eyes with him. He was dressed casually, and he had his hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans. His posture was stiff like he wasn't sure how to act around me. He seemed calm despite that, and I was sure I looked anything but calm at the moment.

After the shock of seeing him here washed away I opened my mouth to say something but closed it before looking around us. We were by the gates of the office building, and apart from the occasional passerby and the security gates, there really wasn't anyone in earshot distance.

"Why are you here?" I whispered anyway, still paranoid that somehow someone would get the full gist of what was between u by hearing just a sentence or two.

Wayne didn't answer my question. His green eyes moved their focus to my hands, and when he reached out to take a hold of one of them, I brushed his hand away. We weren't going to do that in public—we weren't doing anything like that until I figured everything out.

"When you didn't pick my calls, I decided to give you some space, but I've been waiting and waiting—" he paused before running his fingers through his honey-colored hair as he nibbled on his bottom lip. "I'm really worried. I don't know what's going on."

"Neither do I," I admitted, watching Wayne smile a bit before chuckling. I looked him in the face, examining the face of the man I was in love with. The feeling to throw myself at him and kiss him until my lips were brushed was still there, but it was duller—less intense. I wasn't sure if it was because I was anxious, or if it was because I was realizing that I didn't love him as much as I thought I did.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," he muttered after a while of us standing in silence and staring at each other.

"Alright," I agreed after a while. What could go wrong, right? It's not like I liked to take the train.

Wayne smiled again, and before I knew it, I was following him to his car. Wayne tried to be chatty with me as he drove us out of the office's compound, but I could hear the shake in his voice. He seemed worried and a little strained. He seemed to be spreading himself too thin — he was tired.

"Wayne," I called out, and he stopped talking before turning to look at me. We were in the main road, and I decided that it was a good idea to change my mind about where we were going before it became difficult to navigate the traffic.

"Let's go to your place instead," I suggested, and I watched as Wayne's grip on his car's handle tightened.

"Oh, alright." He tried to play his confusion off anyway, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't as unnerved and confused as he was.

"Wayne," I called out to him again and he looked at me from the side of his eyes. His eyes looked tired—the green dull, and the bags under them heavy. He must have been overthinking things for the past few weeks just like me.

"I want to start paying for my therapy sessions. I don't feel comfortable with you paying for it," I muttered, and Wayne just looked away. He directed his attention to the road, his jaw setting tight and his shoulders looking tense.

"O-okay," he managed to say. I could sense that he wanted to argue that with me but was restraining himself.

"Also," I started, reaching out to turn up the volume of the car radio to fill the awkward silence we kept descending into. "I'd like it if you told me about the secrets you've been keeping from me when we get to your place."

I peeked at Wayne from the side of my eyes and I could see a worried frown on his face that matched his uneasy composure. His lips parted a bit like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"I'm serious," I added when he didn't say anything, "If you don't tell me about it today, I'm sorry Wayne, but we won't be able to make this work," I said, gesturing to both of us in space between our seats.

Wayne let out a small sigh before nodding, and the feelings that flooded my being from that answer were unexplainable. My heart rate picked up, and nerves started to tighten up my lower stomach.

I didn't want to hear it. I was scared.

I sucked up the whirlpool of emotions, telling myself that learning about his secrets would be one of the ways I would be able to make my final decision.

The rest of the journey to his place was silent, and someone could cut the built-up tension with a knife.