Page 57 of The Replay

"Dom… We're giving in because it feels good. Right? Today happened because I panicked, and you were kind enough to help me through it. One thing led to another and… well. Now we feel better. Don't you feel better?"

I shake my head, even if she can't see me. My body may feel satiated, but my emotions? They have nowhere to go.

"Helping you when you need it is just decency." I drop my forehead to my forearms. "The way we went about it, on the other hand…"

"Twice isn't so bad."

"Twice more than we said we would."

"Being in my body like this helps. We don't have to… it doesn't have to be more than that."

"Yeah, let's say I did that because I'm generous." I snort.

Then I won't have to inspect my actions too closely. How the moment got me,so thoroughly, that I end up forgetting myself. Enjoying every second. Every touch. Every sigh.

If I do, I might have to face the truth, and I'm not sure I can handle it and keep my dignity around her again.

Cuidado hijo, my mom said when I first told her about Mariana.Relationships like this are hard to keep.

For her, it was the echo of her own story. My dad was comfortable financially— a far cry from Mariana's situation— but he quit on us. Said it wasn't the life he wanted and left her and mi abuela to scramble. She always said she wished she hadn't believed it could last.

I didn't go into things with Mariana thinking it could last, but I fell in love with her anyway. And ended up watching someone I would have spent my whole life with walking away.

"Thank you," she says. "I know I'm relying on you a lot more than either of us planned, but I can't seem to keep things roped away and maybe… maybe we shouldn't have expected to act like we have no past."

"Maybe we're stuck on the things that don't feel resolved."

"Is this when you tell me why you're angry, Dom? Is that what you think is unresolved?"

I lift my head and rest it on the handrail. "I told you why I'm angry. That first night at the party. But if you didn't get it…"

Then it may be part of what's kept us stuck here. With bodies that keep doing the opposite of what we say.

"Do you mean what you said about me not waiting for you?" she asks after a minute. "In the kitchen— you said I got engaged before you could do anything about it."

I don't confirm with words, but my silence does the work well enough.

"Dom. We always knew it would end. We broke up."

"How long after you arrived in London did you meet him?"

"Does that matter?"

"Yes. It does."

Of course it does. It says how quickly she moved on. It would show for how long I grabbed on to my senseless hope, working my ass off to excel and get drafted in the first round, because then I'd get a good contract and maybe, just maybe, I'd get another chance. While she had already given up on us.

She doesn't respond. Her sharp breathing is the only sound for a few charged seconds.

"When did you know you loved him?" I press.

"I never loved him."

"Then why the fuck did you marry him?"

"I hoped I would love him one day."

"You hoped you would fall in love with your fiancé?"