Page 94 of Before I Loved You

“I need to go.” He walks around me toward the door, no longer looking at me.

“Wait, Paul! Please don’t go. Let’s not leave it like this. Can we please talk?” I swipe at the tears on my face with trembling hands. “I can explain everything if you just let me—”

The door slams behind him right in my face.

My knees fall to the floor.

A sob takes over my body.

My chest clenches where my heart resides.

He let me go.

twenty-two

PAUL

My knuckles knock on the door for a third time as I wait for the only person I want to see.

The door creaks open. “Paul, honey. What are you doing home?” my mom asks, her brows furrowed, confusion written all over her face.

Oh, I don’t know. I’ve just been spending the past few days mulling over the fact that I’m going to be a father, and Sarah never bothered to tell me. And the worst part is, I’m not entirely sure she was ever planning on telling me.

“Just needed a change of scenery,” I tell her as she opens the door wider for me to enter.

She watches me with skepticism in her eyes. “It’s a Friday night, and my twenty-two-year-old son came home because he needed a change of scenery?” she asks. “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” She heads toward the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

I hang my coat in the entryway closet, brushing the dusting of snow off my shoulders. “No.”

“Go get comfortable in the TV room, and I’ll throw together your favorite: chicken parmesan with spaghetti.”

A small smile makes its way onto my face for the first time in days. I plop onto the sectional, stretching out my legs, and turn the TV on, scrolling through until I see a familiar title: It—one of Sarah’s “comfort” movies.

God, what is wrong with that girl? I let out a low chuckle, running a hand over my face. However, something must be wrong with me, too, because I sit back and start watching one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen.

Just as the big fucking scary-ass clown torments the kids in the haunted house, and I’m positive I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life, the delicious smell of my favorite meal steals my attention.

“Dinner is served!” my mom announces as she enters the room with two plates in her hands and sets them down on the giant accent table in front of me. Her eyes look to the TV screen as she sits beside me. “Interesting movie choice.”

“I was just flipping through,” I lie, turning it off.

“Mm-hmm…”

I don’t hesitate before I shove a fork and knife into the chicken, taking a heaping bite. The familiar, savory flavors instantly put my overworked mind at ease.

Now, this is comfort food.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” I mumble through the food in my mouth.

“That I do.” She smooths a napkin over her lap. “I always told you the way to anyone’s heart is through food, which stands true with my son.”

We both eat in comfortable silence, but the second my fork lands on my empty plate, she clears her throat. “So, do you plan on telling me what’s bothering you, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

I lean back on the sofa, letting out a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t exactly an easy conversation to have with my mom.

“Is it something between you and Sarah?” she asks.

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