Page 93 of Both Sides Now

“Yes, you do.”

I huff out a breath, feeling the agitation creep in. “Look, I’m not really up for a guessing game right now.”

“I’m not playing games. It took me several days to work up the courage to call you.”

With a sigh, I perch on the edge of the bed and loosen my tie. “You never have anything to fear with me.”

Calli is silent for a beat, and part of me wonders if she’s regretting this phone call. “I’m sorry for my behavior in Mystic. I thought I was better, and I am normally, but so many emotions backed up on me when I saw that slideshow. I feltlike I was suffocating. I didn’t know how to let you in. I didn’t know if I wanted to. My grief is not a pretty place.”

Her words echo those I’ve read over the past week. Yes, I’m reading books about loving a widow, trying to maneuver their fields of grief with them while still respecting their boundaries.

It’s no simple task.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Like I told you that night, I hate that you’re hurting. And you’re right. I can’t understand your grief, any more than I could understand my mother’s. Or my own. But sometimes, it’s not about being able to understand, but just being there. Being present. Sometimes the only way to stop the feeling of suffocation is to open up enough to let the air in.”

Calli sniffles on the end of the line, but I’m unsure if she’s crying or simply suffering from allergies.

Truth is, I’m not sure of much anymore. Especially not love and all its trappings.

“Can I see you? I miss you so much.” Her voice is soft but clear as her request knocks me sideways.

I struggle for the correct response, if there even is one. Do I want to see her? Desperately. But I fear a repeat of that weekend—of recurring repeats throughout the course of our relationship.

I don’t think I can handle that again.

Calli clocks my silence. My indecision. But it appears she’s not wiling to go down without a fight. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I hurt you with my actions, which I never meant to do. You’re the most amazing man. I think I just needed to get all that anguish out because I feel calmer now. Those tears I held back all those months? It felt so good to let go of them.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Come on, have dinner with me tomorrow night. Anyplaceyou want to go, it will be my treat. Plus, I have a whole ton of reasons why you should give me another chance, but I’ll only tell you in person.”

I fight the smile curling the corners of my lips, but the woman’s energy is infectious. “Is that a fact?”

“It is, and they arereallygood reasons. Besides, I think you like me, too, even if I suffered a breakdown and ruined the beautiful weekend you planned for us. But I fully intend to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

“You didn’t ruin the weekend,” I lie.

“Yes, I did. Let’s call a spade a spade. I buggered it utterly, even though that was never my intention. But, after crying for a couple of days, I realized that I have to move forward. Iwantto move forward. So, I am. I packed up all of Charlie’s clothing and donated it last week.”

This is an enormous step for her. She’s being proactive, relinquishing pieces of the life they shared together. I can’t fathom how hard it must be to accept the grief into your soul instead of fighting it. To allow those emotions free rein to do their worst, no matter how thick the barricade around your heart. “How did that feel?”

“Dr. Russo, you will not play the role of my therapist. I have one of those now, too.”

A small chuckle escapes my throat. I’m proud of her. “Big steps, Calli.”

“I’ve been stagnant for almost two years. It’s time to get moving. I have so much to live for and I’d like you to be a gigantic part of it.”

I want to believe. God, I want to believe her.

But the last time I believed her, it was my heart that got trampled. This time, I’m treading lightly, taking things slow. And my rules? The ones I was ready to pitch out the window? They’re back in force, at least for now.

“So, what do you say? Dinner at seven? I’ll pick you up, bring you flowers.”

I shake my head, clearing away the multiple trains of thought parading about my brain. “Sorry, I can’t see you tomorrow.”

“The day after?” There’s a palpable apprehension in her voice now, replacing the lilting tone present only moments before.

“This week is no good.”

---