Page 204 of Ewan

Ironically, it would’ve made everything worse.

It would’ve freaked me out even more.

So without shedding a tear that night, I went back to the bedroom, changed my clothes, called a cab, and asked them to wait outside the gate before I grabbed my travel bag and left the house.

I couldn’t tell whether they were still in the dining room or had moved to some other room in the house and were watching me stroll along the path leading to the gate.

I didn’t look back as I was numb.

Things were different when I got home.

What I’d imagined would happen that evening and what happened in the end were two different things.

I broke down when I remembered how clueless and happy I was when I made that fire, and envisioned us sleeping in that bed, having sex, and perhaps talking more about our lives.

Waking up in his house and taking it easy.

Coming home and thinking about the next time I’d be seeing him.

A glimmer of hope made me think that maybe we’d celebrate the new year together.

None of that happened.

For the last couple of weeks, all I did was avoid Mrs. Eisenhower. Yeah, the woman who is so good at figuring things out.

She knew something was off when she noticed the lights turning on in my house the very next day.

When I waited for her to go to the back of her house so I could sneak out, climb into my car, and go shopping without saying hello to her.

Spending New Year’s Eve alone gave her the best clue, so when I ran into her on January 1st––it was unavoidable––she straight out asked me if I’d broken up with my friend.

I told her we took a break.

By then, I knew it was more than that.

I didn’t think he would call or show up at my door.

You can’t apologize for having a son. And sadly, that’s how it looked. Like I got mad because of Ezra.

It wasn’t even a matter of miscommunication.

It was a matter of muddy feelings, like the muddy waters after a storm needing time to let the mud settle.

I don’t know if anything has been settled or not.

I’m back to work. Everything is exactly how it used to be. Little Colley still looks at me with adoring eyes, which makes me think my ‘what I did last Christmas story’ remained a secret.

Staring at that picture of us with him wearing a Santa suit and me being careful not to sit on his bulge made me nauseous.

We were so far from who we were those last few days when he gifted me that bracelet down in Florida.

I thought about sending it back, but the coward in me wanted to keep it and have a reason to talk to him at some point.

Silly thinking.

A few knocks on the door pull me out of my head.

I swivel with my chair and look at the door.

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