Page 80 of I Still Love You

“When I first got here, yes. I was counting down the days until I could leave because it was awful being in the situation I put myself in.”

“Uh, huh, but something changed.”

“It was good these last two weeks, and now it’s completely screwed.” Luke closed the door on us, and I don’t know how to get him to hear me.

“Do you still love him?”

“I never stopped, Claire.”

“Then go win him back. Are you really going to let a miscommunication ruin something this good? Yeah, you fucked up and bailed the first time around. You should’ve done that differently, but this is your second chance. Don’t go radio silent on him.”

“He doesn’t want to hear a word I have to say.”

She scoots forward on the chair, pulling a small pillow from behind her and chucking it at my head. “Make him listen. Just don’t let his perception of you win. He needs to see that the Layla Robinson he saw before dad died learned from her mistakes.”

I haven’t been paying attention to the time. The cafeteria is loaded with hospital staff and visitors. I tap my foot impatiently, waiting in line at the soft drink maker so I can get a cup of ice, only it’s moving at a snail’s pace. I glance at the overhead clock on the far wall, seeing only thirty seconds have passed.

The aroma of chicken and cheese permeates the air. Chicken Parmesan. The exact reason it’s so damn busy. What happened to the days of people packing lunches? Sheesh. Aggravated by the time it’s my turn, I push my cup into the ice dispenser lever, watching as ice tumbles down into my cup. Once it’s as high as it can go, I pull away, turn on my heel, and hurry back to the emergency department.

I’m left having to weave my way through the onslaught of people in the cafeteria. At one point, I almost trip over someone’s chair. I’m just glad I have Alicia’s, a patient who came in with extreme P.C.O.S. discomfort, ice. The poor woman has been crying in pain all morning, and she deserves relief, even if it only comes from this cup of ice, until the on-call doctor tells me what medication to administer.

When I approach the four-way in the hall, I make a left, which turns out to be the exact time this Monday makes a turn for the worse. I spot Luke’s mop of brown hair almost immediately as he casually makes his way toward, my best guess, the cafeteria. Looking as cool as a cucumber, his relaxed expression punches me in the gut. I softly gasp when he looks over, and his eyes connect with mine. His brows form slashes and his jaw tenses.

I’m desperate to walk up to him and wrap my arms around his middle. I’d give anything to experience his warmth and the weight of his arms around me. But I don’t. I know it’s not what he wants. His eyes, as cold as a New England winter day, back his choices in cutting me out of his life. I see the message in them: it’s over, Layla. Walk away and move on.

He’s next to me for a split second, long enough for my senses to absorb the scent of his cologne, cedarwood with a hint of citrus, and then he’s gone.

Why didn’t I tell him what my plans were or ask him his thoughts on them? I could have avoided all of this if I had communicated better. And now, because of it, I’ve lost the one man who’s been able to make me happy.

Sighing, I choke back the emotion that threatens to spill into Alicia’s cup. Maybe Claire is right. Maybe I need to do something to get him to listen. I can’t stay in Quaint with the possibility of seeing him daily without having the chance to explain myself.

When I swipe my access card and walk into the E.R., a sense of determination pushes my shoulders back. He might not want to hear me, but I have to try, and he needs to attempt to listen.

Just once.

That’s all I’m asking.

And if he still can’t fathom sharing this town with me, I’ll do what he requested of me weeks ago. I’ll pack up, leave, and never come back.

That evening when I’m back home, my phone rings as I sit on the back porch with a book and cup of hot tea in my lap. I answer when I see it’s my mom, knowing it’s been a little while since we’ve talked. After the entire Andrew fiasco, we went to lunch, and I told her what had happened. She held my hand across the table throughout the entire conversation. I could tell by the look in her eye that she wished I would’ve told her sooner, but I think she understands that I’m the type of person who sometimes needs to work through things on her own first.

“Mom, hey.”

“Layla,” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I was just leaving that tea store on the other side of town you love so much. I got you one of their new blends.”

My ears perk up. I may enjoy my coffee, but I love a warm cup of tea, too. “What’s in it?”

“This one has some kind of tea I can’t pronounce, but it also has mango and pineapple. I thought it sounded interesting.”

“It does,” I answer. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Honey, you girls are always on my mind. How are you doing? How are things with Luke?”

I sip at my tea, unsure of what I should exactly tell her. She thinks we’re genuinely trying to fix what I broke. “Not that great at the moment.”

It sounds like she’s shuffling bags. A car door slams. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I don’t know if I should, but there’s a part of me that’s dying to get some of it off my chest. I still haven’t entirely figured out how I’m going to get him to hear me out. “We got into a fight.”

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