I don’t want to hurt him, but I owe him an honest answer.
“I’m so sorry, Philippe,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a wonderful person. You’re my friend. But I don’t feel any physical attraction for you.”
I brace myself for his hurt or anger, but his expression betrays neither of those feelings.
“Don’t you think I know that, Stella?” he says, his voice surprisingly calm.
What?
“But…” I search his face. “Isn’t that a problem for you? Isn’t such attraction necessary for a couple?”
“It didn’t use to be for centuries.” He shrugs. “It still isn’t in many parts of the world.”
I square my shoulders. “I don’t want such a relationship, Philippe.”
“Did you meet someone?”
I hang my head in admission. “I’d suspected something was off between us for a while now. But now Iknow.”
“It was bound to happen.” He reaches across the table and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
I stare at him, confused.
A sad little smile plays on his lips. “I had hoped it would happen after we were married.”
“You…hoped?”
“I care about you, Stella, very much.” He takes a sip of his wine and then looks me in the eye. “I’ve never told you this, but I am not attracted to you either.”
His words, though unexpected, bring a sense of relief. I feel a lot less guilty. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off my chest and I can breathe again.
I clear my throat. “We must break off our engagement.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Isn’t it obvious?”
It’s beginning to feel like I’m in a nonsensical wonderland again.
“No, it isn’t obvious to me,” Philippe says.
All right, then, I’ll spell it out.“I kissed another man, tongues and all, and I loved it. I’m not attracted to you. You’re not attracted to me. That’s why we can’t continue with our engagement.”
He says nothing.
We sit there for a long moment, the sounds of the bistro filling the silence between us. The realization that we’ve both been living a lie begins to fully sink in.
How could I be so blind to my feelings?How could I let this charade go on for months?
Philippe reaches for my hand again.
“I want you to be happy,” he says, his voice sincere. “And I want to be happy, too. We can do that if we’re honest with each other.”
“So, you agree—”
“Let me finish.” He lowers his chin as his eyes look up at me. “We don’t have to rush into breaking something so precious. If we’re honest with each other, we can make this work.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “How?”