Page 15 of Loving London

“You can’t shut out the people who love you, Loïc. She can help you through this transition. She’s going crazy, not knowing if you’re okay. You owe her some sort of explanation.”

“I know,” I say softly. I know it’s true, but I’m not strong enough to confront London right now.

“If you talk with her, maybe see her, you’ll see. All the feelings and reasons you two were together will come back. I know it’s hard, adjusting back into civilian life, but I don’t think it’s going to be as difficult as you think. Sometimes, we psych ourselves up for something that we fear, but when we face it, we realize that the reality isn’t as hard as we thought it would be. You know?” she asks hopefully.

“Okay.” I nod because I don’t want to upset Maggie.

“Oh, gosh, I have to go,” Maggie says suddenly as she looks down at her watch. “I’m working tonight. I’ve been picking up a lot of overtime lately. Gives me something to keep my mind busy.” She shrugs. “I love you, and I will call you soon. You let me know if you need anything. Call me day or night. Promise?”

“I promise. I love you, too.”

She stands from the couch and then turns around to face me. Bending, she plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’m so glad you made it home, Loïc. You’re going to be okay.”

She smiles weakly and then leaves.

I admit that I was dreading seeing Maggie—not because I don’t love her, but because I’ve felt so guilty that I came home instead of Cooper. For some reason, I thought she would resent me for it. Who knows? Maybe she does. She’d never tell me if she did.

I realize thatJeopardy!has long been over, not that I was really watching it anyway. I turn the TV off and opt to stare at the blank screen instead. Too many thoughts are running through my brain for me to be able to concentrate on television anyway.

Minutes later, Sarah gets back, carrying loads of grocery bags.

“I’m back, and I got lots of groceries. We have several options for dinner,” she says excitedly. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Yours?”

“Oh, it was great! I applied to several restaurants and bars. I’m sure I’ll get a job at one of them.”

“Good.”

Sarah calls from the kitchen, “So, do you feel like pork chops and cheesy potatoes, hot dogs and beans, or ham sliders and chips? Man, I just realized that everything I bought is pork. This baby boy apparently wants pig. Hmm…I wonder if all this meat is going to make him a huge baby. You don’t think he’s going to be this giant baby just because I’m eating so much meat, do you? Ugh, that would suck. Let’s hope he comes out normal-sized. You know, I’ve never been a huge fan of meat, but man, do I crave it now. Actually, I think I’m going to go with the pork chops because they expire sooner. That makes the most sense, don’t you think?”

I don’t answer Sarah because her question is rhetorical. She holds one-sided conversations like this all day long. If I wasn’t in such a low place, I’d probably find them cute. But I just find it annoying. That’s not fair to her, I know. She’s just trying to help by filling the space with conversation. Though, to me, silence would be preferable.

Sarah continues to prattle on while I assume she starts making the pork chops when there’s another knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” she calls, walking through the living room and toward the front door.

She’s outside for a couple of minutes before she comes back in and walks over to the couch. “It’s London.”

I suck in a gulp of air at the sound of her name.

“I told her that you didn’t want to see her, but she’s insisting on seeing you,” Sarah informs me.

Shit.

“I can’t.” I slowly shake my head, my mouth agape.

“No problem. I’ll take care of it,” Sarah says cheerfully. She walks back toward the front foyer.

God, I’m such an asshole. A complete jerk.

I’m not quite sure what it is that I’m so afraid of when it comes to London, but I have this powerful feeling that I would crumble if I saw her.

London and I can never work. I’m broken, nowhere near the man that a girl like London wants. I’m mentally not capable of being aboyfriendto anyone at the moment.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a part of me, deep down, thinks she would take one look at my tattered body and run. I tell myself that it wouldn’t matter if she did. She’d be doing me a favor.

Yet a bigger part thinks she wouldn’t care and would love me anyway.

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