Page 3 of Moving Forward

He pales and turns his phone off. “Shit. November fifth.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I didn’t even—god, I’m an idiot. And clearly blind . . . or maybe I should get my memory checked . . .”

I let out a sigh and my attention wanders. Ellie and I are driving to her hometown in the morning. We’re staying there until her wedding. She’s probably dancing around our apartment while packing the last of our luggage. She refused to let me pack my own so I could go on this date.

“So, I guess that it’s probably a good idea we end our date after all, huh? So why didn’t I call you, then? You’re beautiful. Nice too.”

The compliment should make me blush. Instead, I cross my legs and answer faintly, trying not to wince. “I didn’t call you.”

“Oh,” he grumbles. That’s enough for him to pull out of our parking spot, much to the excitement of the car full of people behind us.

Jackpot spot, baby, give me a kiss. The memory of Ethan surrounds me, and for just a second, I can pretend it’s his car I’m in. That I’m on a date with him. That I can’t breathe, and for once it’s not because I’m lost without him, but because I’m with him.

We don’t talk during the drive to my apartment. I’ll give him credit where it’s due—it’s a comfortable silence.

He parks in front of my unit, and I unbuckle my seatbelt. “So . . .” he begins.

“So . . .” I repeat, reaching for the door handle. He gives me a pleading look, begging me to invite him up to my apartment. Just the thought makes me flinch, and my stomach roils. No wonder his manners have been impeccable, even after I shut him down. The entire drive he’s been imagining he still has a chance. I open the door and slip out. “Bye, Kraig.”

“It’s Greg!” he calls after me, slamming his hand on the wheel in a mixture of annoyance and exasperation.

I shut the door and don’t bother looking back as I walk away. Honestly, I do feel bad about not knowing his name. It’s not his fault I’m so . . . broken.

As soon as he’s gone, Ellie practically flings herself out of our apartment’s living room window. “What the hell?” she yells, her arms flying around wildly.

“Shh!” I call up to her.

“I will not shh, Max! I won’t! Not when he was a perfectly fine man, and you didn’t do anything about it. You gave him the cold shoulder!” She emphasizes the last words with a slight hop.

“You’re causing a scene,” I warn.

“That is so not the point right now!”

I trip in my heels. Walking in these things while arguing is going to get me killed. I stop and glare up at my best friend. She’s wearing her pink Scottie dog pajamas, and her shoulder-length brown hair is an unruly mass of curls.

Ellie’s fiancé, Danny, moved back to their hometown of Orchard Valley just a few weeks ago to start working for his dad. Ellie and I had to stay for the remainder of our lease. Without Danny, Ellie’s become a self-proclaimed bum—sitting around in her pajamas all the time, binging TV shows and eating pints of cookie dough ice cream. You’d think they were separated by continents, not a three-hour drive.

That was once you, a small voice reminds me. I shake it off. I don’t need to go down that deep, dark hole for the twentieth time today.

“He picked his salad apart with his hands, Ellie!”

“Ew!” she yells, stepping back momentarily. “Gross.” Then she’s back, dancing around again. “Don’t sidetrack me. God! You’re letting an opportunity slip through your fingers. Or at least a good fling. Hell, girl. You just need a good something in your life.”

Don’t I know it? “You’ve set me up with him before,” I tell her.

“What?”

The porch light turns on. “Just . . . calm down. I’ll be up in second.”

“Fine!” She shuts the window with a huff.

I enter the code to the apartment door and head up the stairs, slowly. Between the date and Ellie . . . I just need a breather.

I must be taking too long for her because she meets me at the top of the staircase. “So, you’ve gone out with him before?”

“Same restaurant, same tie,” I verify.

---