I rub the water spots off of my fork, then move to the knife. Finally, after several minutes, I'm satisfied with the immaculate appearance of my silverware, and I move the salt and pepper shakers, making sure they are dead center on the table.     

That's when I notice the tiny black smudge on the pristinely white tablecloth. I pull my stain lifter pen out of my purse and expertly remove the spot. I honestly don't know how the hell the world functioned before these things were created.    

I grab a napkin and fold it into a small triangle before unfolding it and re-folding it into a square.    

Jesus... I need to get a fucking grip.    

None of my fidgeting or borderline obsessive compulsive behavior is doing anything to calm my anxiety.  If anything, it's just making me even more nervous.    

I glance at the clock on the wall and frown. My dinner companion for the evening should be here in roughly five minutes.    

Suddenly, I'm beginning to re-think this entire thing.    

I mean, what if I made the wrong decision? What if the man I've chosen to walk away from could be the best thing that's ever happened to me? What if he's the person I'm meant to be with?    

No... I can't do that. I can't let my mind run wild with all the what if's. I made my choice and I'm sticking to it.     

This is just the way it has to be.    

I can only hope I'm going about this the right way. I called last night and asked him to dinner. It seemed like a nice, neutral thing to do and my mother always told me that if you're breaking up with someone, it needs to be done with just the right amount of tact and in a public place.    

I'm not sure if this actually qualifies as a break up, but I was all for the public place bit.    

Granted, I don't plan on him causing a scene or anything, but you never know with these things. I've come to learn that just when you think you know a person, they'll do something completely unexpected. For all I know, he could turn into the incredible hulk and break a chair over someone's back or something.    

I seriously doubt it, but hey... anything's possible.    

Honestly, I think my biggest battle tonight will probably be the tact thing. I'm a pretty blunt person and there isn't much of a filter between my brain and my mouth. There's no telling what kind of bullshit I'll start spouting off when he gets here.    

I just... I want to do this as gently as humanly possible. I really hate the fact that I have to hurt this amazing man, but it was inevitable. Someone was bound to get hurt in one way or another, he just happed to be the most eligible candidate.     

I'm not proud of what I'm about to do, but it has to be done.    

I finally spot him entering the restaurant and he smiles brightly as soon as he sees me.    

I really am going to miss that smile.     

"Hey." He grins as he plops down across from me after weaving his way through the other tables. "Sorry I'm late."    

"Oh no... you're fine. Not a big deal." I wave him off and force the best smile I can manage.    

Exactly how the hell are you supposed to do this? Do you just jump right into it? Do you do it after the appetizers? Before desert? In the middle of the main course? Or, do you wait until you've both totally stuffed your faces and are in the middle of after dinner drinks?    

Ya know... I'm beginning to think that there isn't an easy or nice way to do this. No matter what is said, or how this turns out... I'm going to walk out of here tonight, feeling like a cold hearted bitch.    

"So, this is a nice change of pace for us, huh?"    

"Yeah, guess so." I chuckle and roll my eyes. "I wanted some peace and quiet."    

"You've definitely got it here." He muses. "This place is great."    

"Good." I nod and browse over my menu, attempting to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into my skin.    

I wonder if he's got any idea what's coming. I mean, I am kind of blind siding him with it, but maybe... if I'm really lucky, he's already picked up on this intense awkwardness and knows that this isn't going to end well.    

Yeah, right.    

Who the fuck am I kidding?    

I never get that lucky, ever.    

Our waiter arrives and provides a nice distraction while we place our orders and do our best to maintain the casual conversation.    

After dinner.    

We'll eat, we'll make small talk, maybe have a few laughs. And then, I'm going to tell him. I just hope that for once, I can muster up some form of tact and do it the right way.    

Ya know... letting someone down gently is never fun for the person being let down, but I think it's even less fun for the person handing out the let down.    

There's this sense of guilt that comes along with it. It eats at you until you begin to question yourself. It makes you feel like the worst person to ever walk the planet. You have to live knowing you hurt someone.    

And there's absolutely never anything fun about that.    

We make it through dinner exactly how I thought we would. We chat about our friends, family, the city, music, movies, you name it. From the outside, you'd almost think we're on a date.    

And this small, stupid part of me almost wishes we were.    

But... I need to focus on what I came here for. I can't afford to get mushy and sentimental right now.    

Before I know it, both our plates are empty and it's pretty clear that our night is just about over.        

Time's up.    

It's now or never.    

I swallow the large lump in my throat and take a deep breath. Dear God, please just let him understand. Please let him know that I never meant to hurt him, that this was all just a matter of bad timing.     

I was faced with two incredible men, and I had to choose. Had they entered my life months apart, I may not be sitting here right now.    

"So, I've actually got something I wanted to talk to you about." I offer as calmly as I can, even though my hands are visibly shaking.    

This really shouldn't be so damn hard.    

"Oh yeah? Talk away."    

"Well... I...this... I'm....shit." I mutter awkwardly and roll my eyes.    

Why have I suddenly turned into every gawky, nervous, bumbling female character from bad romantic comedies? I mean seriously, all I have to do is come out and say it. It shouldn't be so damn difficult.    

"Em, you alright?" He chuckles at me, an overly amused grin planted on his face.    

I sigh loudly and shake my head, hoping to rid some of the tension I'm feeling. "I asked you to meet me here for a reason."

"Yeah, well... I kind of figured that." He smirks.    

Oh crap... he does know what's coming, doesn't he?    

"Oh?"    

"Yeah... I figured you just wanted to have a date night or something." He shrugs.    

"Well....no." I grimace and shake my head. "I actually...I can't... I can't see you anymore." I say softly, hoping it'll lessen the blow.     

His eyes widen a bit before a deep frown sets in and he nods slowly. "Can I ask why?"    

"There really isn't just one reason. I mean, I..."

"This is about him, isn't it?"    

"He's... he's a small part of it, yes." I nod. "But I swear, I didn't plan on any of this happening. You're a great guy, you really are... and I'm sure, some girl who's much smarter than I am, is gonna realize that. Honestly... you're probably better off without me. I mean... I'm not very nice. I'm a little fucked in the head... I'm a mess.... and you don't want that, believe me."    

"Call me crazy, but yeah... I did." He sighs and shakes his head.       

If I didn't know better, I'd almost swear I can see tears welling up in those deep blue eyes, but there's no way. There is absolutely no way I've reduced this man to tears.    

He's too good for that.    

And too good for me, frankly.    

"So, this is how it's gonna be huh?" He laughs bitterly and rolls his eyes. "That's fine Emma. I can atleast give you credit for being up front about it. Hope he makes ya happy."    

"Could you please just not be so...... nevermind."      

I really am going for the gold in the selfish bitch Olympics tonight folks.      

After what I've just done, what the hell gives me the right to ask for any form of sympathy? Thank God I thought to stop myself before I finished that sentence. Lord only knows how he would have reacted to that.     

"Well... it's been fun Em." He mutters and rises to his feet. "Have a nice life."    

"Justin... I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to end up this way."    

"Yeah well, shit happens." He shrugs and grabs his jacket before turning and leaving the restaurant.     

I've watched him walk away from me quite a few times since we met, but none of them ever had that strong sense of finality, the way this does.     

As rough as this was, it had to be done.    

Max is the logical decision.     

Max is safe.    

And, if I'm in this for the long haul, that's what I need.