Page 21 of The Probability of Us

“She wouldn’t want him to live like this.”

“But she wouldn’t expect you to fix it.” Ali met my mom a lot before she passed. My mom loved to meet us for lunch in the city and dotted over Ali like a second daughter. “She would tell you that you can’t help him unless he wants to help himself.”

My eyes close—she’s not the first person to tell me that. But what if he never wants to help himself? Am I supposed to just stand back and let him keep hurting himself?

Ali puts on a rom-com, and once my tears ease up, she helps me take care of the cut on my cheek then grabs us the emergency ice cream we have on hand for occasions like this.

“He blames her for leaving, and he can’t get over it,” I say once my tears have stopped and I’ve had some time to think. “He pushes everyone away because of it. Did . . .” I bite my lip, considering my words before I finish the sentence. “Did I do the same thing with Warren?”

She looks taken aback by the direction of the conversation. “You have more right to be angry than he does. Warren chose to leave, your mom didn’t have a choice.”

“But I just keep holding onto this anger,” I say. “I won’t let him explain, even though he’s tried to multiple times now. And no matter what I still feel for him, I won’t let him get close to me.”

“You have to decide if there’s any explanation he could give that would make you forgive him,” she says. “But if there’s no chance of you forgiving him, then you need to acknowledge that for yourself, and you need to tell him. Because from what I saw, he’s looking for your forgiveness.”

Could I forgive him? For leaving, for not giving any explanation, for not reaching out for six years. Is it possible to forgive that?

I already know the answer.

But the real reason I won’t hear him out is because I’m scared of how easily I’ll forgive him. How quickly I’ve already handed my heart back over to him, even if he doesn’t know it.

I’m scared of how easy it is to love him, and how much I still do.

Nine

SEPTEMBER 8 YEARS AGO

Irush down the sidewalk, pushing people out of the way as gently as possible despite the glares being thrown in my direction anyway. My mood immediately brightens when I spot Warren through the window of Kallia, sitting at our table in the corner with two cups of coffee in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late,” I huff, out of breath from half-running the whole way here, and dropping into the seat across from him. He slides my iced mocha over to me and I finally start to relax after I take the first sip of the perfectly balanced sweet and bitter drink. As I set down the cup, I realize he’s staring at me with quirked eyebrows and the corner of his mouth curls up into an amused smile. “What?”

And then I realize what he’s wearing—a light gray T-shirt, black chino shorts, and black boat shoes. My head tilts in confusion, but after a moment my lips press together.

“It’s Labor Day, isn’t it?” I say, looking down at my black knee-length dress, beige blazer, and nude heels. He laughs and my cheeks heat. “Why didn’t you remind me?”

“I figured when you saidsee you tomorrowlast night that you forgot we didn’t have work today. I thought it’d be more fun to just show up here at our usual time and see what happened.”

I try to glare, but I can’t stay mad at him when he flashes that face-squishing grin.

“Now, come on, finish up your coffee. We have plans today.” He smirks at my shocked expression.

“We do?”

“Of course, we do. You think I came all the way over here just for coffee?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and my smile grows. “It’s a beautiful sunny day, and I’m with Miss Summers after all, so we’re going to enjoy this weather.”

I blush again and take a sip of my drink before he can see the color on my cheeks. We text practically 24/7, and he’s now a normal addition to lunches and evenings out with Ali, Trent, and Sterling. But he hasn’t asked me out yet and I’m starting to question if he feels that way at all or if it’s just me trying to wish it into existence. But then he goes and does something like this and that warm, hopeful feeling comes flooding back.

“Where are we going?”

“First, to your apartment,” he says, eyeing my outfit. “I’m thinking you’ll want to change.”

* * *

After I throw on shorts and a cute top, we walk around the city, going in and out of any stores we find but barely looking at the merchandise. We’re shooting questions back and forth about silly things like favorite colors and movies, until he asks, “Why’d you want to become an actuary?”

“It’s not that great of a story.” I shrug but he still looks like he’s hanging on my every word. “I was always good at math growing up, and when it was time to start thinking about colleges, I figured majoring in math would be best. But I had no idea what I could do with a math degree. As I started touring different schools, I met with the math departments. Applied Math and Pure Math didn’t pique my interest—they were too heavily focused on proofs and theory. But then, I met with the head of an Actuarial Science program. I was immediately drawn to it because I could see the real-life impact of it from the beginning, and it was more than just math. It combined statistics, math, finance, a bit of economics, and business. I knew then I was going to major in it and haven’t looked back since.”

“And how do you like it so far?”

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