Page 10 of When We Were Young

And we’re both naked, and he’s waited until after sex to say this, and I think it must be a joke, but he’s not laughing and neither am I.

“What?” I reach out for him, but he ducks from under my touch.

“No, Emma,” he says. “This isn’t going anywhere.”

“Not going anywhere?” I stare at him. “But what about Torquay? We’re going to Torquay next year?”

He shakes his head. “Look, all this, it was just a bit of fun.”

A bit of fun.

“Get out.” My voice is blunt.

It’s his room we’re in, but I don’t care, and then I’m screaming and he’s shouting at me to be reasonable, and I’m screaming at him that what we’ve got is special and real, and he’s laughing.

“Emma, this has just been fun. It doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”

His eyes are dark, his lips slightly parted. And he’s looking at me, looking at me in a way no one has looked at me in such a long time.

I breathe deeply. “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”

I turn my upper body toward him, straighten my neck. We’re so close.

Too close.

I put my mug on the coffee table.

He does the same, then offers me his hand, and then my fingers are in his.

“Do you think...?” He seems to have some trouble getting the question out, and then he takes both of my hands, envelops them in his. “I’ve missed you.”

I stare at him, feel my heart pound. That’s it? He just wants to say he’s missed me? Nothing about a second chance—and maybe that’s the only reason I messaged him about finding his album, believing that if I see him face-to-face, then he’ll realize we have to be together. I mean, sure, I didn’t really think anything would happen, not when I thought he was with Celine.

But he’s not with her now. And we’re sitting together.

I wait and stare into his beautiful eyes, wait for him to say it.

But doesn’t. His mouth stays still, and he rubs my hands between his.

Nothing.

I nod and swallow quickly. “I’ve missed you too.”

And I need to leave, leave before this hurts me anymore.

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