The Ex Vows

by Jessica Joyce

Over the years, I grew more careful with my closest friendships. I’d learned from Heather and Mya, where I’d been too eager, too needy for their time and attention. I tempered myself, never asked for too much, made sure I gave more than I took.

I was most careful with Eli, maybe because deep down I knew a fracture between us would shatter me. When we fell in love, I hesitated before I took the leap, even though I was sure about him. I’d have more to lose—not just a best friend, but everything: my Person, now my boyfriend, someone who could give me forever, a thing I craved so deeply, but only if I played my cards right.

how effortless it was to not ask for too much, because Eli was giving me everything anyway—attention, love, time. It wasn’t needy if I didn’t request it, right?

I recognized that I didn’t really have my own place in New York, that my happiness was only tied to him.

the shame of needing Eli more as he drifted further away, the embarrassment of being so dependent on him. What was I going to do, ask him to quit his job because I needed him?

It’s a gift to know someone when you’re in love with them, and a curse when you’re out of it.

“It’s not what you think it is.” “It doesn’t matter what I think.” “It actually does,” he says, his voice low. “Very much.”

There’s shock and confusion and a tiny ache I can’t push away for both of us. There are others, too: pride that he’s doing this for himself, finally. An unfurling curiosity at the impetus for this. A heart punch that his anxiety and our crumbling relationship years ago wasn’t enough. And, of course, disbelief that he bailed on his therapist to white knight for Adam’s cake when I had it.

“I made the right choice, Georgia. You’re not good at communicating your needs, especially when you’re drowning.”

“I’m just wondering why you’re willing to take that conversation on alone.” “Because I know it’ll kill you to disappoint him.” He gives me a small, wooden smile as he pulls his phone from the pocket of his backpack, nestled next to his suitcase. “And because I’m used to it.”

But while he was trying to fix what was broken in his past, he was breaking something that was right in front of him.

“He’ll regret that someday. Having a daughter like you and not taking advantage of every minute.” My throat clogs. “It’s—” “Don’t say it’s fine.” His eyes are locked on me, his voice strangely hoarse. “It’s not.”

“That was equally your idea.” “I did it for you.” “What do you mean?” He lifts a shoulder, leaning against the counter. “You clearly want as little to do with me as possible. I know you’d rather be alone here, or with Jamie or something.”

“You overestimate me.” “You underestimate yourself.” The compliment does its job,

“So tell me what you want.” “I did.” “Say it again,” he demands. “You.”

“You and I are going to have a reckoning, Georgia. It doesn’t have to be this week, but it’s going to happen.” “Fine.”

“This is going to mean something to me.” It’s a last warning, but I don’t need it. “It’s going to mean something to me, too.”

How strange it is to have a first for the second time. How lucky and messy and perfect.

“I love it when you beg, Georgia. You never ask for anything.”

“Fuck, the way I’ve wanted you,” he breathes against my mouth. “I don’t know how anyone can look at me and not see it.”

“You’re always taking care of other people. Who’s taking care of you?”

“The things you care about most are what you talk about least.” Her observation is quiet but hits hard. “And you never talk about him. Not before today, anyway.”

he’s been exactly what I needed and never would’ve asked for.

“It’s not about not being messy, it’s about being honest with your mess.”

“Relationships are messy, but that’s how you know they’re real. Blake and I have shown each other every ugly piece of ourselves and she still loves me. She loves me more for it, in fact.

But why can everyone else be messy and you can’t?”

“But you deserve to let yourself feel whatever you need to. You can be messy. A disaster, if you need to. The people who love you will accept every single piece of it, I promise you.”

“I can’t say what I really want to,” Eli says hoarsely. “So right now I’m going to say thank you and hug you, because if I don’t get my hands on you in some way I’m going to fucking lose it.”

“Because I wanted you to have a second chance so you can stop trying so hard to prove yourself. Because you’re good enough, even after you fall short.” Because some part of me wants to forgive him for that.

“I haven’t been here, and it’s all I’ve thought about for—for so long.” “But you’re here now. That’s enough.” It’s more than enough; it’s all I ever wanted. “You didn’t need to prove yourself, Eli. You just needed to show up.”

“You like seeing me like that,” he continues, soothing the sting of his bite with a stroking lap of his tongue. “How much I need you.”

“I don’t think I could ever show you how much.” He sounds so dismayed that I laugh, and he grins. “Can I try anyway?”

“It’s unreal,” he says quietly, “that I love watching you get dressed as much as I love watching you get naked. I used to sit at the office when I was working late and think about how you were probably putting on your pajamas and I was missing it, and fucking hating myself. I never thought I’d get to watch you do it again.” His exhale brushes over my neck, right below where I’ve fashioned my hair into a loose bun. “Don’t think I’m taking this moment for granted, Georgia, or any moment you’ve given me this week.”

Why are you crying?” He says that, but I hear: right now, if you needed something, would you say it?

“You moved out, and Adam and Grace moved away, and now we barely see each other. It feels like the fuller your lives get, the less space there is for me. If I leave, maybe that space will go away completely.”

“I’m not asking you to change your lives, I’m just saying I don’t know where I fit, and that’s hard. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want us to drift away without knowing it until we’re too far to get back,”

“I don’t know, the timing never seemed right.” My groaning laugh echoes around us. “Not that talking about it hours before your wedding is great timing.” “The ideal timing is when you’re feeling it,” Eli says with the softest edge only I catch.

“That’s a lot of flights.” “I’m a slut for miles,” Adam says. “I have an entire credit card devoted to getting miles.”

“I’m…” I swallow around the easy words, forcing myself to choose the real one instead. “Okay, I’m scared. I don’t want to mess up.”

think it had to happen like this, where everything went wrong the first time so it could go right this time.”

“It’s not going perfectly. Doesn’t mean it’s not right.” Something flickers in my chest. “Are we not hating the curse now?” “Maybe not. It knew what I needed.” Adam grins. “Still got married to the love of my life. Cole bought a Slip ’N Slide. It’s going to be an epic night.”

I never want to say goodbye to him is the thing. That’s the problem. It’s why I’m here, because I don’t want to hear him say it out loud,

Eli can’t see my heart, and it’s for the better because he’d see his name everywhere in it. But it’s for the worse because he doesn’t see that his name is everywhere in it, and that hurts him. I hate that we’re hurting each other again. Still.

“You were alone, Georgia, and somehow that was so much fucking worse, because it was someone else who’d let you down, and I had to see that on your face. I had to remember all the times I’d done that to you and the way you faked the same smile you did that night.”

“When I say I’m still in love with you,” he says quietly, “I mean today and yesterday and this entire week. I mean at Nick and Miriam’s wedding and I mean for the past five years.” If possible, he gets even quieter, but now he’s closer so I get every word. “When I say I’m still in love with you, I mean the first time I saw you and right now. I mean every second in between.”

“That’s why it matters. Because I’m so in love with you that I feel like I can’t breathe. I think it every time I look at you, every time you let me in or you laugh or you look at me like I mean something to you. I know it’s fucking messy, and I know you hate that, but it’s also true.”

“I can’t do this,” I breathe. His expression collapses. “Why?” “Because I want to keep you!”

“I lost you once, and I don’t want to lose you again. You don’t want to hear that I was so fucking miserable with you and without you. That I was so lonely in New York and after.” “I do,” he says

“I want to keep you because when we broke up, the first person I wanted to call to make it hurt less was you, my best friend, and it killed me to realize I didn’t even have that anymore.”

“I needed you too much back then, and I s...