Page 47 of Those Two Words

“Pfft, all I said was Jo was a little under the weather too. I’m not lying to my grandbaby. Now sit your ass down and tell me what kept you out all night. Is she okay?” She might be bossing me around, but I catch the concern in my mom’s voice. My mom has cared for Jo like another daughter since, well, forever.

I tidy up a few of Lottie’s toys, hoping to stall the interrogation coming my way. My mom sees right through it and throws a cushion at my head. “Ass. Sofa. Now,” she instructs. Even at thirty-four years old, her Mom voice still does the trick and I do as she says without argument.

Dropping myself on the sofa, I get a sense of déjà vu. Not even twenty-four hours ago we sat in these exact spots before I ran out of the house, knowing something was wrong.

“Is she okay?” she asks again.

“Yes, she’s okay now.” Well, she was before I kissed her and fucked it all up. “I found her at the restaurant, and she wasn’t in a good place.”

“Oh, Patrick. I should have come with you, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Truly,” I assure my mom. Seeing Jo like that, in the restaurant alone, brought up a lot of old trauma, but I don’t need my mom worrying about that.

“I don’t know what you know…”

“Hm. I know a little from her dad. I’ve pieced a few things together over the years too. I get the impression it’s been happening for a long time. Well before she left.”

My head drops, and guilt stirs in my chest. Guilty that my mom somehow understood what was going on with Jo, but me, her best friend, I was clueless. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.I could tell Jo didn’t want to divulge any more details about her anxiety than she already had, but I was able to make my assumptions.

“Don’t think like that, Patrick. I’m not one hundred percent certain what had her moving away, or what went on between you two. That’s for her to share. The one thing her dad said to me was that Johanna did a good job of pretending she was okay for a long time.”

Is Jo’s anxiety the reason she left? No. I would have noticed the signs, I know her. She was happy, always at work or out with family and friends. Even in the years we were away at college, she was out at parties or telling me about the next dickhead she decided to date.She had her ups and downs, but there were more ups, right?

Nothing about her behavior would lead me to believe she had an anxiety disorder back then.My rapid thinking must be written on my face, because my mom shuffles forward, catching my eye before she speaks.

“I’m not sure you could have helped, for all that it’s worth. She’s home now, but I think this time away was for the best. Maybe for the both of you. You had so much to deal with as well.”

“I want to believe that.”

“Sometimes, the heart wants what we’re not ready for. We have to heal first before going after what we want.”

My mom pats my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic look, before standing and leaving the room. Once again, I’m left with my thoughts.

The idea of being with Jo again scares the shit out of me, my injured heart has never let me forget that, but it’s also never stopped the feelings that should have died when she left this town. They’ve never gone away, and it’s what drove me to kiss her this afternoon.

There was no denying she wanted that kiss as much as I did, but does she still feel the same way? How many more chances do we get before the universe says enough? Looking back now, we’ve missed out on plenty. The classic, right person, wrong time scenario.

I stare down at the bouquet of flowers at my feet and cringe. I’ve debated throwing them into the trash can across the quad for the last twenty minutes, but then I remember her telling me that her idiot of a boyfriend didn’t buy her flowers once during their two-year relationship.

Good. Fucking. Riddance.

I hope she likes them.

I hope she likes dinner. Actually, I know she will because I found a restaurant in the city that cooks everything with cheese. Literally every item on the menu has cheese in it.

I hope she likes that I’ve turned up unannounced outside her last class of the day.

The biggest hope I have is that she realizes this is the first time we’re both single and maybe, just maybe, she feels the same way I do.

My flight was already booked when she texted me to say that she and Aaron had broken up. It made this impromptu trip to Florida that much more important.

The moment I spot a long blonde ponytail swinging in the crowd of students, I shoot to my feet and scoop up the sad-looking white tulips that now slip between my sweaty fingers.

“Hey, YoYo,” I shout, and all heads turn my way. It’s only one person I want to see, and when she turns toward the sound of my voice, my heart somersaults. How is she prettier now then when I last saw her during Spring Break?

She squeals and runs toward me. “What are you doing here?”

Before I can answer, she’s catapulting herself into my waiting arms. The second I have a hold of her, I don’t want to let go. My face is pressed against her neck as I hold her tight, drinking in her scent.

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