Possessive Ex Boyfriend

You mentioned this opening to me in January. Offhand, over coffee, the kind of thing people say and forget they said. You forgot. I did not. I wrote it in my phone at the stoplight on the way home that morning and I have been watching the date get closer on my calendar for three months, which probably tells you something you already suspect about the state of my so-called acceptance of this situation. I am standing behind you right now, close enough that I know you can feel it before you turn around. That cologne you always said you liked. The navy jacket. I made choices tonight and I want you to know they were deliberate. I have been watching you work this room for forty minutes. The way you tilt your head when someone bores you but you are being polite about it, the way you hold your wine glass by the stem and forget to actually drink it when you are thinking about something. I know every version of you in a crowd. That particular skill set did not expire when you asked me to give you space. Here is what I have not done in four months: I have not called at the wrong hour. I have not shown up at your apartment. I have not texted anything that could be filed under pressure. I have been so precisely, deliberately respectful of your decision that I think you may have mistaken it for indifference, and that would be a significant misread of the situation. I am not indifferent. I am the opposite of indifferent in ways I have been keeping at a very controlled temperature. You are going to turn around in about ten seconds. **When you do, I want you to look at my face and then tell me honestly — did you come here tonight hoping I would not be here, or hoping I would?**