There was no sound, and no light seeping out from beneath the door that I could see. I paced slowly forward, trying to stop myself from turning around, and hopping right back onto the elevator. At last I made it over to his door, and knocked gently against its surface with the knuckles of my right hand. My left arm hung down at my side, and though I’d left Dennis’s ring back at the apartment, I continued to nervously flex my fingers as though the band was still in place.
A long silence ensued, and I nearly convinced myself that Malcolm was out, and the best thing for me to do would be to leave that instant, and pretend as though I’d never been here.
But then the door opened. A silhouetted Malcolm appeared in the doorway dressed in a bathrobe, disheveled but clearly awake, a glass tumbler full of clinking ice cubes in his hand.
He smiled softly upon seeing me, his dark eyes gentle, not at all angry at me for having vanished from his life for the past week without warning.
“Nice to see you again, Annalise,” he said softly.
“Can I come in?” I asked, and he gestured me in through the door.
We went over and had a seat in front of the television, me on the couch where the two of us had first started pawing one another before relocating to the shower, him in a modern, expensive-looking chair positioned perpendicular to me.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered. “I’m afraid I’ve had a bit of a head start…”
He smiled as though expecting to do the same, but all I could do was stare down at my hands, at the finger where the ring had been.
“I just want to talk,” I said, and he nodded.
“I would very much like that,” he said, amiably enough.
I hesitated, and it was several moments longer before I figured out how to start. When I did finally manage to figure it out, it felt like it was wrong, but once the words were out I felt as though it would be impossible for me to change course.
“My ex stopped by my apartment, earlier this afternoon,” I said.
“Dennis, you mean?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. Dennis.”
“Regarding what?” he asked following another extended pause from me.
“He… He asked me to marry him.”
Very slowly, I thought I could see Malcolm’s features sinking. He seemed crestfallen, but it was clear that he didn’t want me to know it.
“That’s-” he began to say, but came up short for words. “That’s- wow…”
I actually did manage to smile at this, reflecting on the absurdity of the encounter. “Yeah… That was pretty much my reaction too.”
Malcolm was the one staring down at his lap now, as he passed his empty tumbler back and forth from hand to hand, the ice cubes clinking against the glass with each new cycle.
“So what did you say?” he asked, obviously trying to sound casual, and mostly disinterested in the answer.
“I didn’t tell him anything,” I said. “I told him I would think about it. What else could I tell him?”
“That… Would be entirely up to you, I suppose,” he said.
We both looked up at the same time. Our eyes met for the first time since he’d invited me in. Those dark, lovely eyes. I very softly shook my head, though I’m not sure what I was responding to by doing so.
“I need to understand,” I said, finally managing to get out what had been on my mind for the past week. “Please, just… I need you to put it on plain terms, what you see us as. Because I thought it was one thing, and it seems like you thought it was another, and… And I just need to understand, okay? I need to know how to move forward with my life, and not keep being stuck in place, waiting for someone else to decide whether I’m worth their time!”
I started to cry, and I had to look away from him again. I dabbed at my eyes with my wrists, and I was vaguely aware of the sound of the clinking ice cubes in Malcolm’s glass as he continued to gaze over at me.
“So that’s what this has all been about…” he said, when I’d calmed down some. “I was kind of starting to piece that together. I’ll admit it was pretty stupid of me, that I couldn’t figure it out right away.”
“I just… I guess I just thought this all meant something to you! I’m not trying to pressure you, or give you some kind of deadline, or anything like that. It’s just… I’m tired of guys screwing around with me! I’m tired of feeling used, or like I’m not good enough.”
“Annalise, you are amazing,” he said, with the utmost sincerity. “And if I’ve ever made you feel like you were anything less than that, it was purely by accident, and I apologize from the depths of my heart for hurting you.”
“It’s just, when you said all that about no commitment, no strings, and all of that stuff, it was suddenly like all the time we’d spent together hadn’t meant anything to you. Like we were just friends with benefits, or, or-”
“Or secksbuddies?” he asked, with one of his little playful grins, trying to bring some levity to the situation.
Even though I was still crying, I couldn’t help but laugh. I grabbed one of the throw pillows from the couch and tossed it playfully at his chest.
“Oh, shut up, I’m trying to feel sorry for myself!” I joked. And somehow, I’m pretty sure that was the turning point in our conversation.
We both laughed for a while, and then things fell quiet between us. He gazed over at me, and I gazed back at him, the lights of the city twinkling behind him in the distance.
At last, carefully, he reached across the empty space that divided the two of us. He took both of my hands in his, and I let him without any objection.
“Annalise,” he said gently, and my name was like honey on his tongue. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I replayed that last conversation a thousand times in my head after you went home that night. I realized how stupid it was for me to say that, and how much I really, truly didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?” I asked, cautiously accepting that this might actually be the truth.
He sighed, looked down at his feet, and then looked back up at me.
“Because I was afraid,” he said. A stillness rose up inside throughout the penthouse, and I could feel my pulse beating in my wrist as he held my hand in his.
“Why?” I asked, astonished at the possibility that he might even experience such an emotion as fear. “What were you afraid of?”
“Well, to be honest,” he began slowly, “I think I was kind of in the same place you are. Thinking about my past experiences, and thinking they even begin to compare what you and I have had together. I was afraid of rushing into something like what I’d gotten into with Alyssa. Diving headlong into a toxic, unstable relationship, and not getting to know one another well enough to decide whether we actually belong together.”
“Oh, God,” I said, pulling one hand away from him, and placing a palm against my forehead. “How selfish could I have been? I was so wrapped up in my own problems, I didn’t even think about all of that… Of course you would want to take things one step at a time, and not rush into some big commitment. You’d been single for even less time than I had. God, I made such a big deal out of nothing…”