Page 98 of When I Had You

New leaf and second chances.

As soon as I get to the corner of the block, I pull my phone out again, and read the text Marina sent:

I was mad.

Fuck it. I stop overthinking and text her back: And you’re not now?

I will stand here all fucking day if I get the chance to speak to her in any way.

Another message arrives:

I was also hurt.

Me:

I fucked up. I’m sorry.

Fifteen. Thirty. Forty. Every second that passes without hearing from her is fucking torture.

Marina:

Don’t fuck up again.

Me:

I won’t.

As desperate as I am to see her, I can’t make this about me. The breakup was done selfishly. The makeup must be about righting the wrongs if given the chance.

Ten minutes pass and I hear nothing. Do I text her again? Or let it lie for now? Do I yank the door she cracked open or bide my time? Fuck.

Apparently, patience is a virtue.

But I’ve never been the virtuous type.

Tucking the phone in my back pocket, I start home, chalking the day up to a good one overall.

“Cash?”

I cross the street toward my building and see Harbor standing next to one of his million-dollar custom cars that built his business. One day, he’s going to give me one. Until then, I’ll just admire his. I walk the perimeter and squat to get a good look at the grill. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

But Harbor doesn’t make house calls for fun, so I step back on the sidewalk and ask, “What brings you by?”

Dipping inside the car, he grabs something off the seat. “I wanted to give you this.”

I take it, turning it over to see what the event is listed on the front. “A ticket?”

“It’s a new play opening tomorrow. I’m a donor, so I get extras.”

“Are you asking me out?” I can’t hold a poker face and start laughing.

He chuckles. “Lark is going with me, but we were given a third. Unfortunately, it’s for standing room only.”

“Best way to see a play.” Marina’s words come back like they were yesterday.

“I didn’t take you for a fan of Broadway?”

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