Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Eighteen

William follows me into the entryway of my childhood home.

“Mom? Dad? Anyone home?” I call out as we enter. No answer. William and I walk past the circular staircase, through the long hallway, and out into the backyard. My parents are out on the back patio, sipping drinks in their matching Adirondack chairs.

“Eleanor! William! You’re early!” my mother exclaims, leaping out of her seat.

“No traffic,” William explains, kissing her cheek. “Lovely to see you, Kristen.”

“You, too, William,” she responds, smiling warmly.

“Hi, Dad,” I greet, helping myself to a splash of the lemonade my mother is drinking.

“Eleanor. How are things?”

“Fine.” I take a sip of lemonade and make a face. It’s hard lemonade, apparently.

The rest of the cocktail hour is mostly spent hearing about my parents’ recent trip to Paris. William’s an eager participant, but I continue my recent trend of being a passive one. I’m too consumed by my own thoughts to offer up more than a few appreciative sounds as my mother describes the bistros and museums they visited.

We eventually migrate into the formal dining room for dinner. Cheerful conversation continues as I push the steak around my plate. Past the green beans and around the potatoes. In an endless loop, just like the doubts in my head.

“Eleanor!”

Based on the tone of my mother’s voice, it’s not the first time she’s called my name.

“What?” I glance up.

“What about August for an engagement party? Everyone was so disappointed your trip to California came up, but we can just expand the guest list and have a larger event.”

“We’ll see,” I reply, taking a bite of potato.

“See? Eleanor, venues book up years in advance!”

“Uh-huh,” I respond, sipping at my wine.

My mother sighs. “I’ll make a few calls and send you some suggestions.”

“Great.” I don’t think my mother catches the sarcasm, but my father does.

He turns to William. “How are things going at the firm?”

“Everyone has been fantastic. I was speaking with Billings last night, and…”

I tune the conversation out again. I’m totally indifferent to the discussion about working at Washington and Stevens. And to the people sitting at this table. I love my parents. I think I loved William. Or at least loved the idea of him. But right now? I want to be any place but the formal dining room of the house I grew up in.

I’m craving ocean air and sand between my toes. That’s where I wish I was right now. Not because I’m suddenly some sort of beach aficionado. Because it’s a place I now associate with him.

I want to be any place Ryder James is.

The realization hits me like an anvil. I may not have any assurances of how Ryder feels about me, but I know how I feel about him. I also know it’s not a way you’re supposed to feel about a guy when you’re engaged to another one.

Is love expectations and fancy restaurants and jumping out of bed to brush your teeth before your partner wakes up? Or is it scintillating kisses and arguments and never feeling like there’s something you can’t discuss?

Assurance or anticipation?

Certain or confusing?

Tired or thrilling?

There’s never really been a choice for me. I wasn’t lying to Ryder when I said choosing him in high school was an easy one. Even when I wanted to resist him, I couldn’t. I wish I felt differently now. I don’t, even knowing that things between us are more complicated than ever before. That there’s a lot more sitting between us than just the fact I’m engaged to someone else.

“Is everything set for Eliza’s wedding?” My mother asks as William and my father continue to discuss colleagues and clients.

“Yes,” I respond, before cutting a green bean in half.

“She’s getting married out on the Cape?”

“Right,” I confirm.

My mother lets the conversation drop, leaving me to cut up the rest of my dinner in silence. I stay quiet through dessert and coffee, and it’s the first thing William asks me about when we climb in the car.

“Are you getting sick, or something? You were awfully quiet during dinner.”

An opening to tell him I’m in love with someone else. I falter; not because I’m unsure. Because I’ve had my heart broken twice before, and it’s not something I ever wanted to inflict on anyone else. Worst of all, I was always aware things between me and Ryder could fall apart at any moment. William’s had no such forewarning. He’s not going to see this coming, and that makes it all the worse.

“I’m not coming down with anything,” I reply, but don’t provide any other explanation for my strange behavior.

“Okay. So, what do you think about August?”

“Huh?” I ask absentmindedly, staring out the window as I try to sort through the words I need to say to him.

“August? For the engagement party?”

“Oh.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Um, no. I don’t think so.”

“You want to push it to the fall? We’ll be just as busy then, and your mother’s already handling everything.”

“No. I don’t think we should have an engagement party.”

“What?” William glances away from the road. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t think we should get married, William.” I rush the words out like I’m tearing off a band-aid.

“What?”

It was a bad idea to have this conversation while he’s driving. William’s not even looking at the road.

“I don’t want to get married.”

“What?” he repeats again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accepted your proposal. It—our parents were there, and everyone was looking at us, and I just—I shouldn’t have said yes.”

William swerves onto the shoulder of the road. “Are you fucking kidding me, Eleanor?”

“Um, no,” I respond, startled by both the reckless driving and the swearing. I don’t usually associate William with either. “You’re an amazing guy, William. I’m so happy I met you. I’m just—we’re so young.”

“Cut the crap, Eleanor. This is about the guy from the Fourth. Ryder.”

I meet his eyes. I owe him honesty. “He has a little to do with it,” I admit. “We have a past.”

“He’s a mess.”

I shrug. “So am I.”

William scoffs, then runs a hand across his face. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t believe this.”

I swallow thickly. We’ve been dating for almost three years. This is never how I imagined it ending, and I’m the one doing so. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now. “I am so sorry, William. I don’t know what else to say. I just… I know we work together, but we don’t fit. We would be happy, but nothing more than that…” Not the fireworks and butterflies I feel around Ryder. I’m not sure how to verbalize that effervescent feeling, especially not in the midst of ending an engagement.

William looks straight at me for the first time during this car wreck of a conversation. “He’s going to break your heart.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and blink a couple times, opting not to share he missed an again at the end of that sentence.

“It’s his to break,” I admit.

William shakes his head a couple of times. “Wow.”

He pulls back onto the highway, driving faster than usual. Obviously eager to end this evening. William’s car comes to a stop outside the brownstone. I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab my clutch.

“I’ll be professional at work. But outside of that, I don’t want to see you. Or talk to you.”

I nod. “I understand.”

My capitulation seems to anger him more.

“You’re making a big mistake, Eleanor.”

“Maybe,” I reply, instead of sharing the first response that came to mind.

I climb out of the car, and William’s off as soon as I close the door. I watch his taillights travel down the street until they disappear entirely.

Or maybe I’m fixing one.