Page 71 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

“You left your phone in the car when you were sprinting away from me.” He holds out my mint-green case.

I grab it from him, avoiding skin-to-skin contact. “Thanks.”

“You have a nice place.” He can see all of my belongings in a single eyeful.

“It gets the job done. I hope you didn’t have to fight someone for a parking spot.”

“I did have to parallel park.” For a brief moment, he flashes his familiar smirk, but it breaks into a serious expression. “I think I gave you the wrong impression. I didn’t expect to see Sam’s parents today. They’ve never come out any other time I’ve dropped stuff off. And seeing them with you—”

“I know. It was uncomfortable, considering…” I trail off, anxiety swimming in my gut. Adam’s face is drawn with dread and disappointment. Everything in his expression says this is goodbye. The condo’s packed, and we’re over: Sam’s friend and the eternal almost-girlfriend.

I’m overwhelmed by one true and undeniable fact: this can’t be over. Last night’s kiss changed everything for me, and no matter what we call last week’s—a mistake, a lapse—I’ll never stop replaying it in my mind. I’ll be old and gray describing the hungry look in his eyes to fellow retirees on the shuffleboard courts.

I take his hand, lacing our fingers together. “We can’t leave it like this,” I plead, my words floating off on a puff of air.

His face reacts, but I can’t read it. I hold his gaze, memorizing his bottomless mahogany eyes just in case. Outside, the snow continues to fall, but my focus is entirely on Adam.

“Ali.” His low voice is soft and tinged with awe, like I’m something rare.

“No one else calls me Ali.”

“Does it bother you?”

My heart sputters beneath my ribs. “No, I like it.”

Light dances across his eyes as he decides what happens next. Anticipation teases at every nerve ending. “Ali.” His thumb swipes across my palm. I press my eyes shut and feel it everywhere.

A distant shout from out the window drops between us like a bucket of cold water.

Adam’s forehead creases in confusion. “Is someone yelling for you?”

“What?”

“Al! Al! Al!”

Adam drops my hands, and disappointment shoots through my abdomen.

I force the crank on the living room window and see Chelsea hanging out of Mara’s Jeep, yelling up to my apartment. Her blond blowout is perfect, and her burgundy sweatshirt is oversized in that way that makes petite people look even more petite. “There you are. I thought I had the wrong apartment. I’ve never Romeo’d you before.”

I cup my hands around my mouth. “I think you Romeo’d everyone in Lowertown.”

Chelsea’s eyes gape. “Do you have a man up there?”

I glance at Adam, feeling my face redden, before calling out to my friends, “I’ll be right down, okay?” I close my window and face him.

He clears his throat. “You’re busy. I’ll go.”

I can feel him slipping out of my grasp like sand.

Please, don’t go, I want to shout. I have so much to say to you, and I need more time than the two minutes before Mara starts honking.

“Adam.”

We’re frozen at the window when Chelsea busts into my apartment with a reluctant Mara in tow.

“Is everyone decent?” Chelsea’s cheery voice might as well be a door slamming shut.

“Thanks for that, Chels.” I shuffle Adam in the direction of my friends and follow behind. “Chelsea, Mara, you remember Adam.”

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