The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (33 page)

I miss her. I miss her so much I feel like I
’
m a zombie walking around without a heart. Every time I think about her, which seems to have multiplied exponentially since Sunday, I get this awful nauseous feeling. It
’
s the manifestation of my fear
—
fear that I
’
ve made the biggest mistake of my entire life. In the last four days I
’
ve seen and spoken to her twice.
Twice.
On our worst day as a couple, we reached out to each other that much, if not more
—
in a single day.
I might actually be going crazy as I restrain myself from calling her or texting her every hour. I know that right now it
’
s probably best if I create some distance between us, but my whole body seems to be rejecting this breakup like a bum organ.

I know that I
’
m pretty miserable company these days. I
’
ve been going through the motions at work, pasting on a smile when I have to. My co-workers and my boss can tell something is up because I
’
m so withdrawn when I
’
m not helping customers. I haven
’
t spoken to anyone about what
’
s going on with Addison and me. It
’
s too fresh and frustrating; too complicated and confusing. It
’
s just not something I
’
m really interested in discussing right now. The only people who really know what
’
s going on are the girls, Gray, and Jack.

Gray has actually been a freakin
’
saint, putting up with everything. Jack has been pretty irritable this week, too
—
which is probably why we keep seeking out each other
’
s company and avoiding everyone else
’
s. I
’
ve played more video games with him every night than I have all semester. We don
’
t talk when we play. It
’
s a silent understanding between the two of us. I know he
’
s grumpy because he wishes Claire was around and she
’
s not; and even though his circumstances are pretty much the polar opposite of mine, I don
’
t hold it against him. Misery loves company. So our new routine? I like it. Gray hates it. He
’
s managed to drag us out a couple times, but it
’
s been like pulling teeth, I
’
m sure. I was beginning to wonder how he was still managing to tolerate us so patiently and then Addie burst into our apartment last night and revealed the answer to
that
mystery.

Grayson and Avery. I can
’
t help the knowing smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth just thinking about them.
FINALLY
! If there has been a bright spot in this week, they are definitely it.

At the same time, though, they make me miss Addie
…

Is there anything that doesn't?

The thing that always drove me insane about Grayson not making a move to pursue Avery was that I know that Ave is his person. I
’
m his best friend, yeah, but she
’
s his
person
. She gets a vulnerable piece of him that no one else gets. There
’
s just something there, something unique that clicks and causes them to align in a way that he will never be able to find in anyone else. Because he
’
s been totally into her for so long, he
’
s been giving the purest parts of himself away without even realizing it. Which, of course, opened the door for Ave to do the same thing with him. I know this and I recognize it because, even though Gray is my best friend, Addie is
my
person. Half of the reason why I feel like I can
’
t really talk to anyone about our breakup is because I know that she
’
s the only person that will even come close to comprehending. Even if she doesn
’
t understand the situation, she
gets
me.

I want to tell her how confused I am without her. I want to tell her that I
’
m doubting my decision. I want to tell her that I
’
m scared because I feel like I
’
m groping my way through the dark
—
but I can
’
t. I can
’
t tell her any of that. Not just because there needs to be some distance between us, but because even though I
’
m feeling all of those things, I also know that I can
’
t take it back
—
for so many reasons. Since I can
’
t take it back
—
since I
have
to stand by my words
—
I can
’
t fill her with
my
doubts. I can
’
t burden her with
my
fears. I can
’
t do that to her. I told her to trust me. She needs to be able to hold onto the confidence that I
’
m doing this for a purpose; even if that purpose is so far out of reach that I can
’
t even see it now.

Lord, Almighty, I need her to hold onto something because I can
’
t seem to grasp hold of anything right now.

Seeing her on Tuesday at Cooper
’
s was like an out of body experience. I could see her, hear her, touch her
—
but I also
couldn't
. I couldn't feel her the way that I wanted to. All night, as I tried to stay present and in the moment with her and our friends, I kept thinking,
what am I doing? I love her so damn much, so what am I doing?
But every time my protests sounded through my head, so did my adamant insecurities and the conviction that I need to get my act together before I go back to her. Whatever that means.

As soon as I got home that night, I emailed Pastor Doug to see if he was available to talk this week. I wanted to speak to someone who might have a clue, but I didn't want it to be my dad. I need a more objective perspective. It didn
’
t dawn on me, until he wrote me back, that I sought him out to talk about my relationship problems right in the middle of his relationship series.

Coincidence? Yeah, right. God doesn't do coincidences.

So, I'm on my way to the Little Bird Cafe to meet him now. He suggested it might be more comfortable to meet for coffee than to sit cooped up in his church office. I ignore the fact that coffee makes me think of Addie
—
what doesn't these days, honestly?
—
as I try and find parking. It's early on a Friday morning in Old Town, so it's not too busy and I secure a perfect spot. As I round the corner where the local coffee shop sits, I can see him already seated at a table by the store front windows. He looks up as I approach and smiles as he stands when I enter the establishment.

“
Morning, Beck,
”
he says, extending a hand. I grip my fingers around his and he pulls me in for a hug, patting me on the back. I do the same with him, tapping him with the journal that I
’
ve got clutched in my other hand.

“
Hey, Pastor Doug. Thanks for meeting me.
”

“
Sure, sure,
”
he says, pulling away from me. Doug is built sort of like I am. He
’
s the same height as me with a similar lean frame. He
’
s got brown eyes, framed by a generous amount of laugh lines and thick eyebrows. His face is clean shaven and his dark blonde hair is combed down neatly just like it is on Sunday.
“
Can I buy you a coffee?
”

“
Okay. Thanks.
”
I put my journal down on the table, where I notice he has left his Bible open. We go to the counter and order, talking about nothing in particular as we wait. When we sit, silence settles between us as we both sip at our hot drinks.

“
So, Beck, why are we here?
”
he asks softly.

I inhale deeply and exhale loudly as I try and mentally psych myself up for what I
’
m about to say.
“
I broke up with Addie.
”

The look on his face says
Whoa!
as his lips part in awe. It would be funny if I didn't feel the same way. He recovers quickly before he speaks.
“
Really?
”
he manages.
“
I didn
’
t see that coming.
”
I nod, understanding that Doug has known us as a couple for as long as we
’
ve been attending Calvary Hill Community Church.
“
Is there any chance for reconciliation?
”

“
Yeah. I mean, that
’
s the plan.
”

He knits his eyebrows together in confusion.
“
I don
’
t think I asked the right question. What happened?
”

For the next twenty minutes, I talk without ceasing. He listens, only interrupting for clarification. Simply telling my story yields no answers; just like journaling my thoughts as of late, it feels good to get the words out, but I don
’
t see things any clearer having done so. When I
’
ve finished talking, neither of us speaks for a few minutes. I watch Doug, nervously, as he strokes his chin and processes all that I
’
ve shared.

“
I
’
m going to be straight with you, Beckham,
”
he finally says, resting his elbows on the table as he leans closer. I mimic his posture, anxious to receive anything he
’
s able to offer.
“
I don
’
t have any answers. In this situation, there isn
’
t a right or wrong path to take. There is nothing black or white about any of this. I do not presume to know God
’
s plan or the depths of your heart. All I can offer you is my opinion
—
my advice from my limited perspective.
”

“
Yeah, okay.
”

“
You don
’
t think you
’
re ready to get married. Well, let me tell you something
—
I don
’
t think anyone is ever
really
ready to get married. Sure, it
’
s important that you spend some time getting to know the person that you intend on living the rest of your life with, but marriage is something that you can
’
t fully understand until you
’
re in it. Even when you
’
re in it, while it is beautiful and amazing and fun, it
’
s also difficult and unpredictable and
work
. People change, people grow, life happens and no two marriages are exactly alike.
”

“
So, what, you
’
re saying I shouldn
’
t have broken up with her? That this feeling I have is never going to go away?
”

“
No,
”
he says shaking his head.
“
I simply want to point out that I don
’
t think your focus is in the right place.
”
I cock my eyebrow at him in question and he clasps his hands together as he prepares to address my desire for more.
“
You and Addison have been together for longer than a lot of marriages last, these days. Considering you broke up, not because you don
’
t wish to be together but, because the expectation to get married has become too heavy, I
’
m not convinced that this is about being ready to get married. But since that is how you understand this situation, your mind is focused on what you have to do to be ready to get married
—
your compass, if you will, has Addie as your true north. You say you feel like you
’
re groping your way through the darkness, but I wonder if it seems that way because you
’
re not traveling in the right direction.
”