Page 56 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

Truly (11:56 p.m.): Look, I’m still figuring some stuff out, but if you want to send me bizarre facts about bull penises, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed.

She read back the text twice before hitting send.

Colin (11:58 p.m.): Are you asking me to text you bizarre facts about bull penises?

She huffed, unsure whether he was being difficult or legitimately asking for clarification. She couldn’t tell over text, not the way she’d be able to if Colin was standing in front of her and they were having this conversation face-to-face.

Truly (11:59 p.m.): No. I’m saying you don’t have to go totally radio silent just because of what I said the other day.

If her last text wasn’t clear, she prayed this one would be.

Colin (12:00 a.m.): Do you want me to text you?

Truly (12:01 a.m.): If you want.

Colin (12:03 a.m.): I’m asking what you want, Truly.

Her stomach twisted, Colin’s question nudging her a little too close to taking that flying leap of faith for comfort.

She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. It would be so easy to put her phone on do not disturb, so easy to simply not respond. But that would only be delaying the inevitable. In three days, they’d be back in the studio and her gut told her Colin wasn’t going to let this go. Not unless she asked.

She didn’t want to, and she didn’t want this conversation to end just because she was too afraid to be honest. With Colin or with herself.

Truly (12:06 a.m.): Yeah, I guess I do.

As soon as her phone buzzed, Truly let out a breath she was very well aware she’d been holding.

Colin (12:08 a.m.): Did you know pizzle is the Middle English word for penis?

A laugh burst from her lips, taking her by surprise and leaving her breathless as she sank back into the couch, tension bleeding from her muscles, leaving her loose and lax and lighter than she’d felt in weeks.

Truly (12:09 a.m.): You were just dying to whip that out, weren’t you?

Colin (12:10 a.m.): Was that a pizzle pun?

Truly (12:11 a.m.): You’re a little odd, McCrory.

Colin (12:12 a.m.): Right back at you, St. James.

That night, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

***

Caitlin greeted her in the hall outside the studio with an exuberant hug and an air-kiss administered against both cheeks. “You’re here! Thank God.”

“I’m not late, am I? We said five, right?”

“God no. You’re fine.” Caitlin waved off her concern and wrapped a hand around Truly’s wrist, tugging her toward the door at a faster clip than Truly’s shorter legs could comfortably keep up with. “Colin’s just been driving me insane. He got here forty minutes early and he won’t stop talking. The last time he was like this was when he was—” Caitlin’s mouth shut with an audible snap as she clammed up out of nowhere. “Can you forget I said that?”

“Said what?”

“Thank you,” she breathed, mistaking Truly’s confusion for acceptance. “Anyway, I’m so glad you’re here. Maybe now he’ll calm down.”

Truly tried not to read into that and instantly failed. “Why would, um, why would that matter? Me being here?”

“Because.” Caitlin made it sound like the answer was obvious, and maybe it was, but it was sure eluding Truly. “He promised me weeks ago—after the first debacle of a recording—he’d be on his best behavior around you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “If this is his best behavior, do I even want to know what his worst looks like?”

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