I wasn't jealous when she married Eddie. I didn't dream, every night leading up to that day, that it was I standing at the end of the aisle waiting for her. I have never dreamed of our life together.
I wasn't envious when she gave birth to his daughter; didn't wish that the precious child could have been mine; didn't feel a sense of lost chances when I held her tiny little hand, and watched her beautiful little smile.
I was not secretly ecstatic when she and Eddie separated, and I was not overwhelmed by a feeling of renewed hope when she filed for divorce.
When Eddie said that he always knew we had a thing, I did not wonder whether she had given him reason to think this; whether her feelings for me were more than just those of a friend.
It has never bothered me when she has become involved with other men. Her attraction to Paul Newsome didn't affect me; I didn't feel like I was losing her when I found out she was seeing Chris Bezich -- my concern was simply on a professional level; and the growing closeness between her and Warrick doesn't worry me at all.
I don't wish, every time I see her dressed up for a date, that she was going out with me. I don't long to be able to take her to a romantic restaurant; to dance with her; to make her smile; to make her laugh; to do all I can to make her dreams come true.
I can go a day or so without seeing her. And I don't spend all of the time wondering what she is doing; or wondering if she is wondering what I'm doing.
I don't feel like a part of me is missing now that she has her own shift to supervise; and I'm not concerned that we might drift apart now that we don't see each other as often.
And this concern, that I do not have, does not make me feel like it's time to tell her how I feel.
Because there's nothing to tell.
I'm not in love.