Page 68 of Between Here and There

I swallow, trying to find my voice. “No, I’m... I’m good,” I say, though the truth is I’m not entirely sure what ‘good’ means right now. This entire situation—our arrangement, this fake relationship, and the way he’s looking at me as if he’s actually seeing me—it’s all starting to blur together. “Thanks, though. For, you know, checking in.”

He nods again, his eyes lingering on mine a beat too long. I wonder if he can see the effect he has on me, the way my pulse races and my palms feel a little clammy.

“Emily…” he says softly, and I can hear the uncertainty in his voice, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say the thing he’s been holding back.

“Yeah?” I whisper, barely trusting myself to speak any louder.

He lets out a breath, then shakes his head, a wry smile forming on his lips. “Nothing,” he says, almost laughing at himself. “Guess I’m just… wondering what you and Rob were talking about. I mean, you don’t really owe me an explanation, but…” His words trail off, and he looks down, almost as if embarrassed.

I smile, feeling the tension dissolve just a little. “Honestly? He was really just apologizing for, you know, everything. The past, and… well, for being a bit of an idiot.” I shrug, trying to lighten the mood, but it feels forced. “It was nice. Unexpected, but nice.”

He nods again, though something unreadable flickers across his face. “So, you’re okay, then? Nothing… unfinished there?”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s getting at, and when I do, my heart does that traitorous little flutter again. “No,” I say firmly. “Nothing unfinished. In fact, it feels good to finally have some closure.”

He lets out a breath, and for a moment, I think I see relief in his eyes, though he quickly masks it with a casual nod. “That’s good,” he says, glancing down, his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh. “I just... I don’t know. I don’t want you to be dealing with... old stuff.” He frowns, almost to himself, and then looks back at me with something close to vulnerability in his expression. “You deserve better than that.”

There’s something about the way he says it, so quiet and sincere, that makes me ache in a way I can’t explain. I take a steady breath, trying to ease the weight pressing on my chest. “Thanks, Josh. That means a lot.”

He shrugs, as if brushing it off, but I can see the faint color rise to his cheeks. For a second, everything feels like it’s hanging in the balance, as if one of us just needs to say the right thing and this entire moment will tip into something else.

“Well,” he says with a forced lightness, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just wanted to make sure you’re all set.”

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. “Yeah. Thanks for checking in… we’ll be back in New York in no time.”

“Yeah, and all this, well…” he trails off.

“Will end, yeah. We had a good run,” I say, my stomach doing flips after flips. We’re way past parasites at this point. There’s a giant snake slithering in my insides.

He gives me one last look, then he nods, slips his cap back on, and leans back.

“I should probably go,” I say. Joshua looks startled, and he immediately sits up. “I have something I need to do.” That’s a lie, there’s nothing I have to do. But all this emotion is begging to explode, and I can’t sit here looking at him like that. I need to go somewhere to just… cry.

I don’t give him time to speak as I get up and walk through the door. The bell chimes as I leave, tears already forming in my eyes, wondering why it feels like I just lost something I never even had.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Joshua

Ihave a feeling she’s crying. And I hate that I’m the reason why. The truth is, I came to the Corner looking for her because I wanted to be honest about how I feel. That after that night in the tent, everything changed. Or maybe just really became clearer.

I get out of the bistro to go back home, because suddenly, my morning became terrible. The sun is relentless, but my chest feels heavy and cold, like I’ve been carrying a block of ice in place of my heart. I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone as I make my way home. The world feels smaller, suffocating, and all I can think about is her.

I like Emily. So much it made me jealous to see her with Rob. It threw me off, and I was too annoyed to speak. But when she told me it was nothing and that he was just apologizing, I tried to ease back into the conversation. I tried to recover. I tried to tell her that I want her in my life when we’re back in New York, that I don’t want this connection to end.

But I couldn’t. And she told me we had a good run, and she left. And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I don’t really get to try with her. Maybe Emily is meant to be a reminder that I’m not someone who should be in a relationship because I will overthink every single action. And nobody wants a paranoid guy who second guesses everything, right?

So now, I’m back to where I stood. Nowhere. Someone who has no right to feel bothered about who Emily’s talking to. Someone who has no business with what she’s doing on her alone time. Someone who’s just another person to her.

I glance back in the direction she went. I think about following her, about saying the things I should’ve said back at the bistro. But would she even want to hear them? Would it matter? Would I evenknowwhat to say? I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I just want her to stay around. And I don’t think that’s enough.

From the way she walked off, it’s clear she wanted space—from me, of all people. So I continue walking.

When I reach our home, I hear faint voices in the dining room. The smell of garlic fried rice and tocino wafts through the air. My parents are at the table, their plates already half-empty, but they look up when I walk in.

“Josh!” my mom says with a smile, gesturing to the food laid out. “Sit, eat with us.”

I hesitate for a split second, memories of strained family dinners flashing through my mind, but something in her voice feels different. I can’t remember the last time I had a meal with them—at least, not one where we weren’t arguing or tiptoeing around each other. So I decide to stay, telling myself to make the most of it. I’m leaving anyway.

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