Page 52 of The Accidental Text

Chapter 16

“Chase?” I say as I turn and see a man standing there, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and skinny black tie. His brown hair is messy in a way that looks purposeful. He’s taller and broader than I imagined him.

But it’s him. It’s definitely him.

Chase’s mouth spreads into a huge smile, and before I can say anything else, he closes the few steps between us and pulls me into a hug. It’s a bone-crushing one, and I’m fully wrapped in his embrace. So much that my feet come off the ground for a second as he leans back, taking me with him. He feels warm and smells of a cologne I recognize but can’t remember by name.

“You made it,” I say, after we pull away from each other.

“I made it,” he says, the corner of his lips pulling up on one side.

Then we just stand there, looking at each other.

“Do you want—” I start, at the same time he says, “How’s it been—”

We smile at each other and both do one of those nervous laughs.

“You go,” he says, gesturing to me.

“Um, do you want a drink?” I say, with a backward tilt of my head toward the bar behind me. I look quickly over myshoulder to see if Dad and June have moved away from the bar and feel relieved when I see they’ve gone.

“Love one,” he says.

We walk over to the bar and I order a Coke—not wanting alcohol just yet—and Chase orders a beer. We take them over to an empty high top and set our drinks down, claiming the table.

“So,” he says, that half-smile back on his lips. It’s a nice one, the side of his mouth pulled up with just a peek of straight white teeth.

“So,” I echo.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Same.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

I let out a breath. “Neither was I.”

“I didn’t even know how to find you; we didn’t set anything up.”

“But you found me,” I say.

“I found you.”

“You look … great,” I say, pointing toward his suit.

“Thanks.” He looks down at himself. “Got this for the funeral.”

“Ah,” I say. It’s easy to forget that Chase’s mom died not that long ago. He seems so normal standing here in front of me. So casual. Of course, maybe thisisChase in pain. How would I know? He looks in better shape than I was at this point in my grief.

“Sorry, didn’t meant to dampen the conversation.”

“You didn’t.” I give him a reassuring smile.

Chase looks down at his hand resting on the table, holding his beer, his thumb running across the corner of the label.

He looks back at me. “You look great too,” he says with a head bob toward me.

“Thanks.”

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