Page 118 of The ABCs of You & Me

Finding date ideas that start with Y is harder than I expected. I’d thrown out a yellow theme early on and had spent a week flip-flopping between forcing myself to do yoga and a Yogi Bear marathon and then like magic, I’d seen an acquaintance from the university post about a rental yurt. I reached out, and she said bookings wouldn’t be starting until next month, but she’d happily let us stay if I was able to get to campus to pick up the key.

So after I’ve packed, I jump in my car and head to campus.

Campus is quiet due to it being Saturday, but since the summer term is shorter, there are still students and staff dotted around, working at tables in the atrium I pass through to get to the faculty offices in the humanities department. The atrium was my favorite place to study. It’s also where I met Gregory for the first time. In line at the café, he’d bumped into me, and I’d dropped my coffee. He’d been almost over the top with his apologies. He’d offered to replace it, then insisted I order something fancier than a coffee. I hadn’t wanted anything fancy—I liked my simple coffee—but I’d done it. He’d brought that up a lot to people in the beginning. Passing it off as if he was saving the poor student from having to drink boring cheap coffee.

I had done what he had wanted right from the start. I hadn’t had a chance.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down to find a picture of Pete, red-faced, crutches blurry as he runs to Foster.

“Sophie?”

Ice travels down my back. I know that voice too well.

He’s standing there in a polo and chinos, his Saturday uniform. Why is he here? He always hated being here on the weekend. I wish Foster was with me. Wish his hand was in mine keeping me centered.

Gregory steps toward me, and part of me wants to turn and run back to my car. Get back to Foster. But there is another part of me that wants to ask a question and is dead set on not leaving until I get an answer. That is the part that wins.

“Did you ever love me?” I ask. He stops immediately, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“I…” he begins and then looks away. He’s going to say no. Going to laugh at how gullible I was. How young and stupid. “I did until I didn’t.”

I blink back at him. “What?”

He takes another step. “I never lied about loving you, not in the beginning.”

“When… when did you stop?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Gradually things that I used to find cute weren’t cute anymore.”

“Things I couldn’t…”

“Things that would never change because they were part of you. Things I couldn’t change about you.”Despite his attempts, hangs in the air between us.

“You loved who I could have been, not who I was,” I say quietly.

“Maybe that’s right.” He chuckles as if five years of my life were nothing to him.

I square my shoulders and force myself to look into his eyes. “I’d like to thank you, Gregory.”

“For?” That cocky grin appears as if he’s expecting me to compliment him. He’s used to that from people.

“For showing me what love isn’t. For demonstrating so wholeheartedly how I never want to be treated again.” My entire body is shaking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my face is as red as a beet. But I feel something shift inside me. Like a door creaking open.

I see his mouth open, but I’m done now. His time is up, and I lift my hand to stop him. “Nope,” I say.

A smile lifting the corners of my mouth in triumph, I leave him standing there to stew in a word he’s certainly not accustomed to, and continue down the hall, each step becoming lighter than the last.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls when he comes through the door. I close the book I’ve been failing to read for the past thirty minutes and make my way over. Making sure to give Gary proper time to greet Foster before I throw myself at him. “God, I love coming home to you,” he rasps against my neck as he presses me against the wall.

“Mmm,” I hum. “I’m also a big fan of you coming home to me.” I gently pry his lips from my skin. “But we have somewhere to be.”

“Is this related to your fantasy?”

“You remember that, eh?”

He pulls back, his lips quirking to the side. “Remember it? I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss me again.

“It’s not actually, but…” I stop to think because maybe it would work… no, probably not, but maybe. There’s no balcony, but thereisa deck. In a forest against a tree—oh, maybe that appeals to me too. I wince thinking about the bark. That could be painful.

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