I Don't Paint Myself into Corners
It had taken everything in her not to run away from him. The lies she'd told him had cost her more than she would have imagined. If she had let herself believe he was searching for some sign from her she wouldn't have been able to let the words slip off her lips.
But this was for the best. If he left, disappeared up north, she could move on. Perhaps, in a new place, he would find happiness as well. A sharp pain tore through her chest, could a person's heart really break?
She sat in her car, trying to calm the beating of her broken heart. Telling him to go, was for the best. Without Robbie around, she wouldn't find a reason to sabotage her budding relationship with Franco.
That had been her mistake before. She'd never fully committed to him. One foot had always been over the ledge, ready to jump if Robbie showed even the slightest hint of interest.
And he had, he'd invited her away for the weekend. Without a thought to Franco she'd said yes, tried to tell herself Franco need never know, unless something happened. And nothing did happen.
Robbie had asked if she wanted to try again. She'd told him yes, was thrilled by the thought of it. And then nothing. Franco moved away, Robbie withdrew and she was left alone.
She was tired of being alone. She wanted a life. Franco could give her that. He would love her, perhaps enough for both of them.
But she had to get out of her own way first. Robbie Lewis had to be anywhere but here. So she'd lied, told him there was nothing here for him. He would go, move near his daughter and she would never see him again. Finally, all of her walls could come down and she could start over, finally free to live.
It took awhile for me to see things as they were,
In the light of truth, it wasn't you, it was me
I let myself get used to drowning in the hurt
Against the wall, who'd have thought, it was me
From there I couldn't even look over my shoulder
I kicked down all the walls and started all over
And I don't paint myself into corners anymore
In a brittle heart of clay, I threw my brushes away
The tools of the trade that chained your memory to me
Are out the door,
I don't paint myself into corners anymore
Trisha Yearwood - I Don't Paint Myself into Corners