Emma had agreed to meet him for dinner against her better judgement. It had been an impulsive answer: he’d made it sound so simple and casual and for a brief moment she’d thought that maybe taking their relationship to the next level wouldn’t be a bad thing.
But as soon as she got there, she realized her mistake.
It was lovely. It was like he’d carved out a little place of another world, just for the two of them. He’d made her dinner, himself, and set it up in the little garden behind his apartment. He’d strung lights from the trees and music played softly from his phone.
She didn’t know what to say. No one had ever done something like this for her. Most of the guys she’d dated attempted to impress her with how much money they were willing to spend on her … but no one had made something for her. They’d invest their money (it was easy enough to come by for them), but Nick had invested his time.
He’d already walked down the stairs into the garden, but she was stuck at the top; still too surprised to be able to move. He walked back up to her and extended his hand out to her. But she still didn’t move. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He teased.
You will, she thought, suddenly. Or I’ll hurt you.
That’s how it always ended, didn’t it? With broken hearts and disappointments. It wouldn’t be today or tomorrow or even a week or a month. But eventually this would end, wouldn’t it? Just like all the others. And this one, she realized, would hurt so much worse than all the rest.
Coming here had been a mistake.
“What is it?” He asked, realizing something was wrong.
“I — I should go.” She said, taking a step back.
“I’m so sorry, Nick.”