We had a wonderful time, drinking and laughing and I owe much to him for distracting me...only he really didn't for long because Patrick happened to walk in the bar...with a girl.
It was as if someone punched me in the ribs. And sure, I was out with a guy, who was only a friend, but still. It hurt. Needless to say, Chris and I made a quick exit.
I had him take me home and after thanking him a bunch he left and I went in my room to get ready for bed. And then, of course, the phone rang.
Picking it up reluctantly, I managed to utter a small greeting, fully knowing who would be on the other end.
"It's not what you think, Elaine. She's just my friend. Besides, you were out with someone, too."
I held the receiver to my ear, closed my eyes and felt warmth come over me from hearing his voice, and in that instant,
I gave up.
"I miss you," I managed to say. "I miss you a whole lot."
"Can I come over?" he asked gently, without force or urgency.
In less than 20 minutes we were in my room, furiously kissing and crying and ugh, it was horribly romantic and sad at the same time.
Monday night I had to work and Tuesday night we spent a couple of hours together. And I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, like I needed to let him know that even though I forgave him, he was being carefully observed, and that I wasn't going to let down my guard. Of course I haven't said these things to him, because I'm me and I just don't do that, but I promised myself that he would never be allowed back if he hurt me again. And I'm pretty sure he knows it, too.