Page 16 of Something Forever

I suppress the eye roll that threatens to burst through me. He really is the lamest guy I know.

“I’ll ask her,” I tell him.

“Oh, a lady flatmate? How progressive.”

“Yes, Dad, men and women can live together, you know.”

“I know. I watch reality TV. Stacy likes the live-in ones. Like Love Island. You should try that, by the way.”

“Alright, Dad, I gotta go.”

I don’t, but once he gets going about Love Island, he never shuts up.

“Listen, son, before you hang up. I just want to say… or ask, really… how you holding up? You know, if you ever want to talk about Luke and what happened, I’m here for you.”

My spine turns to steel at the softness of his words. The pity in his voice seems to shatter through me. I blink into the empty room, my stomach churning uncomfortably.

“I’ve really gotta go, Dad.”

“Liam—”

“Bye,” I manage before hanging up.

Great. Now I have to figure out how to tell my dad I’m a disappointment with no future and how to ask my new roomie if my 50-year-old father can move in with us for a weekend. I’ll save that for another time. November is months away.

I find a vase in the top cabinet and put the flowers out on the dining room table, scribbling a small note:

Whitney,

Really sorry about the other morning. You caught me on a bad day, and you didn’t deserve my attitude. Hope you like roses.

It’s not great, but at least it’s earnest.

Let’s hope she doesn’t burn them.

6

LIAM

When I wake up, it’s pouring. I hate the rain. Part of why I was eager to leave London and live with my dad when I was younger was to get away from the terrible weather. Not that New York is so much better, but I prefer the seasons to the constant rain and fog. The only problem is that even now, in the dead of August, I feel cold inside. Have for the past six months.

Ever since I watched them lower Luke’s body into the ground.

After dragging myself to the shower, I go to the kitchen and see a note sitting on the counter next to the bouquet I got for Whitney.

Thanks for the flowers.

That’s it?

This is from the girl whose grocery list on the fridge has exclamation points after every single item. That’s the loudest period I’ve ever seen.

So, she’s definitely not over it. Why do I even care? I fucked up, I apologized, and now it’s done. If she can’t forgive me, that’s on her. Staring at the note, I crumble it in my hands and throw it away. Why does the thought of her being upset piss me off so much? She said thank you. It’s done.

Later, I’m in my room finishing the last of my unpacking when I hear a knock at my door. Turning down the music blasting from my speaker, I answer. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” Whitney’s voice asks from behind the door.

“That’s generally what ‘yeah’ means.”

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