Eliza

The next morning, I wake up in Leon's arms. My cheek is resting against his chest and each breath he expels is hot on my forehead. The arm around my waist is heavy, but it feels comforting in ways I can't explain. He also smells delicious, like cedar wood with a splash of something citrus. I can't tell if it's lemons or limes. Leon's presence and this intimate moment make me want to stay here forever. But I know that's impossible. Although I've been processing my thoughts and have decided who I want, I don't know if I have the courage to break James's heart. After everything we've been through, I feel terrible my heart longs for someone else.

Speaking of James... he's probably wondering where the hell I ran off to last night. If he finds out about me cuddling with Leon all night, he's immediately going to think I had sex with him; that I had an affair. Even if I try to convince him I didn't have sex with Leon and use the sleepovers we used to have as backup evidence, James will never understand. He'll jump straight into his assumptions and go with them. We'll get into another argument.

"Shit," I mutter, trying to work my way out from under Leon's arm. I don't want to wake him up—he looks comfortable and he deserves to sleep in. He stayed with me all night, just like I asked. The realization strikes a chord in my heart.

My efforts do nothing, though. "Liz?"

Propped up on my elbow, I freeze and look at Leon. His hair has always been prone to knots and tangles, so it's no surprise it's a total disaster. As he sits up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, my heart thumps rapidly. I've missed the warmth that radiates off his body. I've missed his smell and the comfort of him being pressed against me. I've missed him.

"I have to go," I whisper. A pang of longing jolts through my heart. I don't want to leave. I want to stay here, hiding in the bedroom with Leon until the wedding date passes. That way, I'll be able to avoid what's to come. "James is probably wondering where I am."

Leon tugs at his hair and sighs. "Don't worry about it, Liz. We did nothing wrong last night. If James gets mad at you, tell him to come talk to me. I'll take care of the problem."

I try to smile, but my facial muscles fail; my smile is weak and less convincing than I intended. Telling James I only slept overnight and did nothing sexual—unless Leon kissing me falls in that category—with Leon wouldn't be a lie. So why does it still feel like a lie? Why does it feel like I'm betraying James?

I pull the charcoal-grey sweater Leon gave me before bed tighter around my body, breathing in his scent. The more time I spend with Leon, the more I realize how I've wronged James over the past year-and-a-half. I never got over Leon. And while there is a part of me that loves James, I don't fully love him. James deserves a woman whose heart is infatuated by him. The way my heart is infatuated with Leon.

I never stopped loving him. I never stopped loving the boy who comforted me during summer camp; kissed me during a dare; held my hair back while I puked my guts up; the man who bought me kettle corn and lemonade out of the goodness of his heart. The man who came back to me and admitted his mistakes.

Leon has always had my respect, but it's only intensified since he returned. He's also made me a godforsaken mess, but it's the most beautiful, unruly feeling. Forgotten pieces of me are waking up; after years of feeling like something was missing, I'm feeling whole again. Content. Whenever I look ahead ten years, I can see me and Leon, married and with a family. I can see the future we were always supposed to have. Something I've longed for over the years.

All I have to do is tell James I don't want to go through with the wedding.

Smiling, I say, "I'm going to get changed."

Before Leon can say anything, I slip off of the bed and head for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I do everything in my power to not turn around and fall back into his arms. My body is desperate for his warmth and the smell of his skin. Leaning over the vanity, I grip the edges of the sink and stare into the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my hair is a wild mess of loose curls. There's a smudge of mascara at the corner of my left eye. And when I meet my gaze in the mirror, my green eyes are clear and bright.

A small smile forms on my lips as I turn around to collect my clothes from last night. They're still hanging over the edge of the bathtub, but they're now dry and wrinkled instead of sopping wet. Pulling off the clothes Leon gave me, I dress in my own clothes and toss Leon's in the laundry hamper. Except for his sweater. Instead, I pull that over my head and tuck the excess fabric into my jeans. I hope Leon knows he's not getting this sweater back. The grey fabric is soft, and it smells like him. Next, I turn to my hair.

I spend about ten minutes in the bathroom going through my normal morning routines, minus the application of makeup, before I head to the kitchen. When I enter the open-concept area, I'm greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. My blood buzzes, longing for the kick of caffeine I've become addicted to over the years.

Leon is standing behind the counter and pouring two mugs of coffee. Sugar, cream, and vanilla syrup sit in front of the steaming mugs, waiting to be used. I climb onto one stool and rest my chin against my fist, watching as Leon expertly adds cream and a pinch of sugar to his own mug. He takes a sip before he grabs the chipped purple mug and glances at me. "Two splashes of steamed milk and one teaspoon of vanilla syrup, right?" he asks. "I'd add a dash of cinnamon, but I can't find any."

My heart picks up as I nod. Smiling, Leon doctors up my coffee and pushes it in my direction. I take it, hoping he can't see how shaky my hands are. After all these years, he still remembers what my coffee preferences are, right down to the dash of cinnamon. I've been living with James for just under a year now, and he can never remember the way I like it. He always adds too much steamed milk or forgets the vanilla syrup.

When Leon hands me the mug, I take it. "How do you remember that?" I ask.

His mouth pulls to one side. "You ordered the same coffee from Tim Horton's for years, Liz. It's damn hard to forget. That, and I know how to make coffee. Before I moved to Saanich, I would make coffee every morning for my dad. You pick up some skills when your routine is repetitive."

"I did," I smile, taking a sip. I have to suppress a sigh. Leon's right—he does know how to make coffee. The scorching liquid burns my tongue a little, but it tastes too good for me to give a damn; I take two more sips before I set the mug down.

"Any plans for today?" Leon asks.

"I have to work," I reply, tracing the rim of the mug with my finger. "Then Tenille and I were going to see the seamstress to make sure my dress for the rehearsal dinner is fitted and ready to go."

His gaze flicks to his coffee. He's trying to prevent me from seeing the hurt look in his eyes, but I see it. It makes my heart hurt. Why am I still talking about the wedding like it's happening when I know it's not? I don't have a case of cold feet. I'm not having an affair. I've decided to benefit from my happiness. I just haven't figured out how to break the news to James yet. And Leon's taking the brunt of it. It must be difficult for him to wait on the sidelines, knowing I'm cagey about telling James what I want. I admire his patience, though.

Leon sets his mug down. "Liz, you need to tell James. I love you and I want to be with you, but I can't share you with James. And James can't share you with me. It's unfair our hearts can love more than one person, I understand that, but you have to tell him." He glances at me. The look in his eyes nearly brings me to my knees. I see a future with him. I see our wedding and honeymoon. I see a little boy with his eyes and my hair. "I know I sound selfish, but you have to tell him. That's the only way we can be together. I refuse to do this the immoral way."

I set my coffee down and rub my temples. "It's hard, Leon."

"And I can understand why," he nods. "But, Liz, you went through hell when we were kids. If you can make it through battling your narcissistic parents, then you can do this. James will heal from this. Just like... Just like you healed from me leaving you behind. You're a powerful woman. I know you can do this."

"That's only because I had you," I choke. "You were the reason I could stay on track during my parents' divorce. Without you, I would have slipped between the cracks and turned to coping mechanisms that weren't healthy."

Leon shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "You would have made it through with or without me." He reaches over the counter and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I love you because you're so strong. You amaze me every single day, Liz."

A tear slips down my cheek as fear encompasses my heart, as my lungs cave in on themselves. I set my mug down and slide off the stool. As much as I want to be with Leon, how do I convince myself I can do this? If I'm as strong as Leon says, then why does my heart freeze with fear every time I think about it? I don't think I have the strength to break James's heart, even if it means giving up my happiness. "I, um, I need to leave."

I spin on my heel and dash for the front door. Leon doesn't come after me as I jog up the stone path back to the house. I'm glad he doesn't. If he were chasing after me, it would raise too many questions for James and Tenille, who are sitting in the kitchen and discussing wedding topics. I can hear their voices echoing from the kitchen as I step through the front door and kick off my shoes.

"Eliza!" James calls when I open the door. "Is that you?"

I don't reply; I head upstairs to change into something a little more suited for mountain biking. As of right now, I've decided I'm going to call in the favour Mitch owes me. He needed me to take over a shift for him last month, so he can do the same for me. I fire off a quick text to him, saying I need a day for my mental health. If there's anyone who knows about my Leon-James problem, it's Mitch; we talk while we're working. Sometimes we share too much information, but we swore confidentiality. We trust each other. After I've gotten changed into compression shorts, a sports bra, and a workout top, I check my phone for a response. I get the thumbs-up emoji from Mitch, praising him for being such a good friend.

My head is a mess of emotions and I need to sort them out. If I procrastinate, I'm going to hurt one of these men. It's unfair of me to take my time when somebody else's feelings are on the line.

And if I'm going to figure this out, there's one place I need to go.