Page 42 of Ready or Not
“If that’s what you’re so afraid of, then maybe he’s not the right person for you after all. But Sol… What if he does want to hear it? What if he doesn’t think that at all? What if you find out that he’s been sitting on the other side of this whole scenario, wondering why you left?”
I swallowed hard, her words cutting through me in a way that left no room for denial.
“You’ve spent all this time imagining what could go wrong,” she continued. “But have you even dared to imagine what might go right?”
“I—”
“I know you’ve been through hell with Andrew—trust me, I do—but not every man is going to treat you like he did. And from everything you’ve told us about him, Desi doesn’t strike me as the type to walk all over you without a second thought. So, you owe it to yourself to stop assuming the worst and give it a real chance.”
“But…. you didn’t see how perfectly folded the clothes were, though…”
“I didn’t,” she quietly laughed. “But I also know you’re like me when it comes to romance. We both self-sabotage at the first sign of vulnerability.” She paused, letting her words simmer before continuing. “What if this is different? What if you’re wrong about what those folded clothes actually meant? What if instead of being a closure, they were… I don’t know, assurance?”
“Assurance? How can that be assurance?”
“Sometimes actions—small, insignificant actions—carry more weight than anything words could say. Maybe folding yourclothes was his way of showing care without waking you up or imposing on your rest. Not every gesture has to read like a novel, Sol. Some people speak in little things. You just have to listen differently.”
I let her words sink in as I traced the edge of the Uber app on my screen with my thumb.
“I—” I furrowed my brows as her words took root in my mind, causing me to close the ride-share app. “I gotta go, okay?’
“Text me later,” she said. “And Sol?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re braver than you think.”
I hung up before I could respond with something snarky or let her kindness unravel me completely. For now, I needed to focus—to block out doubts, fears, and the nagging little voice that sounded an awful lot like Andrew at his worst.
Quickly opening the maps app on my phone, I looked up which train line would take me back to Desi’s. The J train seemed the most direct, though it required a switch at Broad Street. I could also walk to the L, and it would cut down my commute by two to three minutes.
I bit my lip, tapping my phone against my thigh, knowing time wasn’t the real issue at hand.
The thought of returning to his apartment, to the scene of my self-made chaos, was what made my stomach churn.
But the thought of not returning, of leaving things unsaid and unresolved, was worse.
So with a deep breath, I stood up and opted for the J train on Marcy Ave to cut down the nerves. The L felt too close to cheating, and I deserved the extra minutes of contemplation as I rehearsed what I’d say.
I’m sorry for leaving.No.
I’m a mess, and you deserve better.C’mon, Solène.
Maybe I should just start with,Can we talk?Simple. Direct.
It left room for him to choose whether or not to even engage.
That seemed fair, right?
Fairness wasn’t exactly my strong suit lately, but maybe this was a good place to start.
“Butterfingers!”
I froze.
It couldn’t be.
My heart leapt into my throat as I turned. At first, I couldn’t locate the source of the voice amidst the sea of commuters roaming the platform, but then as I continued looking? My eyes found him on the other side of the platform with a couple of teenagers. His hands in the air, waving exaggeratedly like he was flagging down a plane, there stood Desiderio. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black shorts, his dark hair a tousled mess. For a second, I thought my mind was playing some cruel trick on me.
