Page 29 of The Echo of Regret

“You’re just so…you about this. I’m not saying I want to marry the guy, but we were friends for years before we dated and, I don’t know…sometimes I think maybe we can be friends again. What I do know is that you are absolutely zero help with this stuff.”

“You mean with the stuff that has to do with you going to hang out with the guy who shattered you?” she says, her voice rising. “Excuse me for having your best interests at heart.”

“My best interests.” I scoff, feeling slightly brittle at her ‘shattered’ comment. “If it were up to you, I’d never date again or get married or have a family. I’d be here with you until we’re old and senile, though one of us is already well on her way.”

Leah’s eyes narrow.

“I have news for you, auntie dearest. This isn’t Grey Gardens.”

She laughs, and after a beat or two, I purse my lips, trying to hide my own smile. Eventually, she sighs, her laughter fading as she assesses me.

“You think I want you to stay here, lonely and alone?” she asks. “That’s what you really think?”

Crossing my arms, I tip my chin up. “No.”

“All I want is for you to be happy, Gabriela. I hope you know that.”

My nostrils flare and I look away from her. “I do.”

“The reason I said not to go hang out with Bishop is not because I want you to be alone forever. It’s because he hurt you, and the last thing I want is for you to ever be hurt like that again.”

I understand where she’s coming from. I do, but I think she assumes he’s playing some kind of game, because that’s what she thinks all men do. Part of me gets why she feels that way. She had quite a few men string her along when she was younger, until she decided enough was enough and she was just going to live her life however she wanted without caring if she ended up with a partner.

She also doesn’t know Bishop like I do.

That thought surprises me. Do I know Bishop anymore? Can I say that?

I think I can. After weeks of these meetings and the occasional interactions around campus, it feels like he’s the same man I knew. The same kind heart. The same listening ear. The same tender soul.

As I think this, my decision feels made.

“Thanks for the chat,” I finally say to Leah, setting my plate in the sink. “I think I’m good.”

Her shoulders droop, but it’s more out of resignation than disappointment. “You’re gonna go, huh?”

I nod. “Yeah. He was my friend. My best friend,” I tell her, shrugging a shoulder. “And even if it’s imperfect and sometimes strained, I’d like us to be friends again.”

She takes a deep breath then lets it out, long and dramatic. “So I guess I need to not chase him away if he comes by, then?”

I smirk at her. “If a little poking from Aunt Leah sends him running, he’s not the man I think he is.”

I spin on my heel and head to my room, leaving Leah cackling behind me.

I’m snuggled in bed when I finally pull out my phone and text Bishop.

Me: Sorry it took a while to respond. I was working and distracted. The paint thing is Sunday?

It only takes a few seconds before the bubbles pop up.

Bishop: Yeah. You in? *smile emoji*

Me: I’m in. Just as long as we aren’t painting something stupid like a lake at sunset.

Bishop: Sweet.

Almost as soon as the text comes through, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.

“Is texting not good enough?” I ask, rolling onto my other side and holding the phone to my ear.

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