Page 41 of Tough Love

“Okay.” I swallow, staring at a stain in Briar’s carpet. “I, um, I spoke to Mum yesterday like you suggested.”

“And?”

“She told me a few things that shouldn’t have been a surprise, but … well, I guess they still stung when I heard them spoken out loud, you know?”

He hesitates. “What did she say?”

I swallow back my fears and hit him with the reason for my call. “Could I talk to you about it in person?”

“Of course.”

“When do you have lunch?” I hold my breath, waiting on his reply. If he shoots me down here, baulks at how urgent I sound, then I may as well write off ever calling again.

“Eleven. You want me to come over?” he asks hesitantly.

The breath leaves my lungs with a whoosh. “If you could, but not here. At my place.”

“Sure. Message me the address.”

I drop to the edge of Briar’s bed, my shoulders sagging with relief. “Can I be honest with you, Evan?”

“Always.” The muted sounds of him chewing come down the line.

“It wasn’t until I saw you on Friday that I realised … I still miss you. I thought I was over it.” I sigh, closing my eyes for courage. “But I guess I never really let go completely.”

Silence is all I’m afforded. By heart kicks up pace, a hot flush washing from head to toe.

“I’m sorry if that makes you feel awkward, but I have to get it off my chest, admit it out loud—”

“I get it.” He swallows. “I understand, Mimi. I really do. You just … you kind of took me by surprise, is all.”

“Was that a bad thing?”

“No,” he says. “Not at all. It was … nice to hear.”

Seconds pass like hours with nothing but poignant silence between us. What else can I say? What else willhesay?

“I’ll see you at eleven then?”

Well, I guess he could say that.

“Yeah. Eleven.”

I hang up and immediately send him my address, realising only when a tear drops to the back of my hand how deeply his acceptance of that admission affected me.

Yet, I still can’t pick what from: happiness or sadness.

I miss him; miss us. I’ve never felt as complete as I did when I was with him. But he made it clear nine years ago that he didn’t feel the same way.

So why am I hoping things are different now?

***

The buzzer in my apartment sounds, letting me know the gate has been accessed using my code. I dart to the window, and then across to the kitchen, finally getting lost somewhere in the middle of my living area when I pick up on the sound of his engine shutting off below.

What the hell do I do? Act casual, or greet him at the door? He must know I heard him pull up. Ugh, decisions, decisions.

The doorbell sounds as I’m contemplating changing my fitted T-shirt for something a little looser.

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