He didn’t hear from her all day Saturday but not for a lack of trying. He called her apartment more times than he could admit. And her cell phone. He left messages.
Clearly, she was mad.
And her passive-aggressive avoidance of him was making him mad as well.
So he didn’t want to play his guitar for her. So what? Didn’t he get to keep some parts to himself? Pam was the one who was keeping him at an arm’s length; she was the one moving on, becoming stronger and more independent. She was the one who forgets to drive him home or blows him off when he wants to talk about Dwight. She was the one who . . .
He was fuming as he drove over to her place. If she wanted to break up – during the holidays, no less – she at least had to do it to his face. If she wanted to be mad, she at least had to tell him why.
He was angry all the way to her front door. He pounded on it, loudly, forcefully, the cheerful Christmas wreath jiving to and fro as he banged his fist between the circle of pine needles.
But when she opened the door and glared up at him with those beautiful hazel eyes, he was mollified just enough to only muster a half-hearted, “what the hell?”
Wordlessly, she stepped back to allow him into her apartment. Jim made his way right into the living room, slowing down as he took in the sketches covering the floor, couch, coffee and end tables. She’d obviously been hard at work. Drawing, sketching, sketching and drawing – oh, and avoiding his phone calls.
He whirled around to face her. “Were you going to answer any one of my calls?”
She shrugged, her back stiff, her expression not giving anything anyway. “I don’t know what . . . what you want from me, Jim.”
He did not like the tone of her voice. He was beginning to feel panic. “What I wa – Pam, what I want is what I’ve always wanted. You.”
Her face softened, for an instant, before her eyes hardened once again. “But do you really want me?”
A violent blend of fear and anger rose up within him, so strong and intense he felt sick. Fear that his worst nightmare was coming true. Anger that she’d ever doubt his feelings for her. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t possibly be asking me that question.” A brief synopsis of every night he spent aching for her for the last four years spun through his head.
“How can I not ask you that question?” Pam’s voice rose significantly, an edge to its tone. “You won’t even share-” She stopped herself; turned on her heel, walked away.
“Won’t share what, Pam?” He rose too, following her. “The fact that I wanted you for so long I didn’t bother to dream about anything else?”
“Yes!” She hissed, whirling around to face him. He was taken aback by the tears in her eyes. Feeling like an asshole all over again, Jim inwardly cursed himself for those tears. “You should be able to talk to me! I share everything with you, Jim.”
He shook his head. “No you don’t.”
“Anything important in my life, I have shared with you.”
“It’s embarrassing, okay!?” He exploded, holding out his arms in a defenseless gesture. “For years, Pam, I stayed at a job I hated just for the chance to talk to you. Look at you. Pull a few pranks. And then watch you go home to Roy. I never . . . I should have left Dunder Mifflin the first week I arrived. But you-”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Pam said, brushing at her tears. “I didn’t ask you to give up your dreams for me!”
“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice softened. God, he hated to see her cry. “There are no dreams without you Pam.”
“Do you think I don’t feel the same way?”
Nope. That wasn’t it. “I just feel like you don’t need me anymore.” He couldn’t believe that he had actually said it. And from the expression on her face, neither could she.
“Why?”
“Because you’re so . . . different now. You’re so much happier, stronger and more confident than you ever were. You don’t need me to be there for you like I used to. You just don’t need me.” At all, he silently added. He told himself he’d die before he’d ever let her see this side of him. But when she cried . . . he couldn’t be the cause of that. He’d do whatever it took to make those tears stop, even if it meant unbarring his soul and becoming completely open and naked in front on her for the very first time.
“I love you,” Pam whispered. “The reason why I’m so much happier and stronger is because everything is finally falling into place for me, Jim. My art and my confidence and you. You,” she said again for emphasis, “are the reason why I am the way I am today.”
He felt his eyes filling and turned to blink them away. He could not cry in front of her. He promised himself after Casino Night – never again. “I just feel like once you realize your boyfriend has no goals outside of being with you, you’ll see how pathetic he really is and want out.” When he was sure he could keep the moisture at bay, he turned back to her.
She scoffed, sniffling as she stepped closer to him, reached for his hands. “That’s not true.”
He shrugged, uncomfortable by the intensity of her gaze. “It kind of is.”
“Then why is your Second Life avatar a sports writer from Philadelphia?”
The reminder of their conversation from yesterday stung. Again, he shrugged, felt the internal struggle to deny, to evade, to flee. But her hands tightened on his and she looked at him with such naked, adoring love he found himself saying, “Because in a perfect world, Jim Halpert would be a sports writer from Philadelphia.”
Pam grinned so beautifully she took his breath away. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Another roll of his shoulders. “It wasn’t easy though.” But it didn’t feel like the world was ending. He had just admitted to her one hugely vital part of his dreams and she hadn’t judged him or rejected him or walked away.
“I want you to confide in me,” Pam whispered. “I want you to trust me. But you don’t.”
“I trust you,” he said without any hesitation. “But there’s still that part of me that doesn’t feel good enough for you, Pam.”
She laughed, so loud and carefree he ached with love for her. “You don’t feel good enough for me? I never used to feel good enough for anything. For Roy. For you. For art. For . . . life.”
“So what changed?”
“This guy I knew put himself out there one night. Told me how he really felt. Showed me what courage really was.” It was her turn to shrug. “Let’s just say, if I could have half the strength this guy has, I’d be a much braver woman.”
“I just needed you to know,” he whispered, echoing his words from that night. “I think I would have gone crazy if I never told you.”
“If you could tell me that you loved me when I was engaged to someone else, why can’t you tell me that you like the guitar? Why can’t you play that guitar for me? You think I’d love you less?”
“Sometimes I think you’ll wake up and realize you don’t love me at all.”
Pam raised herself on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sighed when his arms slid around her waist to pull her flush against his body. “You’re the love of my life.”
“You’re the love of mine.”
“Good. So what do you say we go over to your place and you play me something on that guitar you have hidden in the back of your closet?”
His brow quirked and he looked down, blushing. He didn’t play that guitar for anyone. “It’s embarrassing.”
“So you keep saying.” She shook his hand, waited until his eyes bore into hers. “I’ll never not love you, Jim.” Nuzzling her nose against his, she grinned. “I know there’s still that part of you that doesn’t believe that yet. But it’ll learn.”
Something in his chest clicked into place. Firmly. It had everything to do with the way she was looking at him – the way he always dreamed she would. “I think it already has,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“So come on.” He took her hand. “Let’s go back to my place. I’ll play you a little something on my guitar.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Saturday
Chapter End Notes:
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