Page 144 of Forever Then

“Thank you.” He doesn’t respond as he starts to close hisdoor. “I love you.”

Half-shielded in the shadow of the door, he stills. “I love you more,” he replies softly before shutting it with a finalclick.

Connor

I watched Gretchen walk away until the last morsel of her silhouette disappeared. When I returned to my office, stomach empty, I was so nauseated I couldn’t think about food.

Text after text that I sent to Drew, begging for him to talk to me, went unanswered.

I texted Gretchen several times, too, but backed off when I got Reagan’s message that she’d forgotten her phone at the restaurant. She said Drew would pick it up on his way home where Gretchen was waiting for him.

That was hours ago.

The cavernous pit in my stomach has kept me restless all night. I paced the living room like an anxious pet for far too many of those hours. My phone doesn’t ring no matter how many times I check to confirmed it’s powered on. Ultimately, I end up in bed, holding my breath so that I don’t miss the sound of Gretchen walking through the front door.

Because she promised she’d come back.

When my phone pings, it lights up my pitch-black bedroom, I toss the ice pack I had pressed against my jaw and rush to grab it from the nightstand.

Drew

Gretchen is staying here tonight. I’ll be by tomorrow to get her things.

She promised she’d come back.

Gretchen should have her phone by now and I need to hear her say it. Like a lamb led to the slaughter, I type out a message to her that feels like the beginning of the end.

Me

Are we okay?

I wait and I wait, but she never responds.

Chapter Forty-Seven

TALK LESS AND LISTEN MORE

Gretchen

Morning comes early,or late when you consider I never fell asleep to begin with. I could blame it on my brother’s couch or glass balcony doors that let in too much light, but I know it’s the mess of feelings swirling around in my stomach. They’re all in there gliding and launching like performers in some sort of synchronized swim routine.

I miss Connor.

I hate that my phone is dead. I hate that I couldn’t hack into Drew’s computer to send Connor an email. Anything. I was desperate for anything.

I hate that he was alone last night. I hate that he needs me, wants me, loves me, and I’m stuck here trying to neutralize the fallout with my brother.

Is this what love does to a person? Makes you the Stretch Armstrong of middlemen, where your heart pulls you one way, but roots pull you another? Both sides gripping and tugging until you’reforced to lean into the weaker side, all while praying that the stronger arm can hold out just a bit longer before it snaps.

My impulsive decision to chase after Drew was for the sake of salvaging our relationship. That’s what I told myself, at least. That it was urgent and required my immediate attention. But maybe I was wrong. The longer I stay, the more I feel like I made a mistake in coming here.

Up with the sun, I start a pot of coffee and station myself at the dining table to wait for Drew. It’s after seven when the bedroom door opens.

Reagan, dressed in black leggings, an oversized tee and tennis shoes, announces she’s going for a walk. Drew’s scowl says he hates the idea, to which she replies, “The doctor said it’s good for me to move a little bit.”

With that, she kisses him on the cheek, throws me a half-smile and walks out the door.

“I made coffee,” I say.

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