Page 20 of Check the Halls
I shrug it off. “It’s nothing.”
We hold each other’s gaze for a beat too long. Maddy blinks first.
“Did you have more questions? Or should we skip right to your concerns?”
I rub the side of my jaw choosing my words carefully. “I really only have one concern. Are you going to be okay with this? Us working together? Because when I ran into you a few weeks ago, you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to see me.”
“I know.” Her voice is quiet, but I hear a soft hint of regret in it. “Running into you that day really caught me off guard.”
“Me too.”
“It might be weird, at first. But I think we can put our history aside. Don’t you? We were friends, once. Before everything.”
Friends. The word seems so casual. Basic. The last thing to describe the way I feel about the woman sitting across from me.
“We were.” I swallow hard. Before everything. “And your fiancé?”
“Derek?”
“Yeah. Derek.” It’s a dumb name. “He’s okay with this?”
“Of course. I mean, he did suggest that maybe this was some wild scheme to win me back, but I assured him that you weren’t secretly still in love with me.” She giggles nervously as she smoothes a loose strand of hair behind one ear like the idea is preposterous. When I don’t join in, her laughter dies off.
Honesty breeds honesty. That’s what my stupid self-help book claimed, anyway.
Fuck. I can’t believe I’m about to say what I’m about to say. But she was very honest with me just now and the least I can do is return the favour.
“He’s not entirely wrong, Madness.” I meet her gaze head on not wanting there to be any miscommunication between us. “I am still in love with you. Very much so, in fact. I expect I always will be. I know that you don’t feel the same way and that’s okay. I promise, I’m not trying to fuck up the life you’ve built for yourself. I have no plans to interfere in your relationship with the man you chose. There was a time in my life where I might have been selfish enough to try. But I’m not that guy anymore. If you’re happy, I’m happy for you. And I want you to be so happy, Mads.”
Her clear eyes have clouded over and the thought that my words are hurting her sends a pang of grief through my heart, but I make myself continue. “I know this is a lot and I’m sorry to put you through this after so many years. But I wanted to be honest with you, because I owe you that.” And so much more. “If you’re not comfortable working with me now that I’ve said all this, I completely understand. I’ll withdraw from theproject. Hell, I’ll even find you someone better to take my place. I promise. Unlike you, I happen to know a lot of athletes.”
She manages a little laugh at that, her professional armour cracking the tiniest bit.
“But if you think you could still be okay doing this, working together, I’m all in. Like you said,” I give her a sad smile. “We were friends. Before everything. We could be friends again. Or at least try to be.”
She considers me for a long moment, sifting through the bits and pieces of wreckage after I’ve just dropped this bomb on her.
After what seems like an eternity, at least to me, she gives an almost imperceivable nod.
“Okay. Let’s try to be friends.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” I exhale so hard my chest almost caves in. “Holy shit, I didn’t see that coming.”
“You didn’t see that coming? Are you kidding me right now? How do you think I feel?” And then she’s laughing, loud and unrestrained, the sound spilling off her lips, unpolished and unfiltered.
I start to chuckle, and once I do, I can’t stop. It bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, rolling out in waves, infectious and easy. We clutch our sides, gasping between peals of laughter, feeding off each other’s energy like we did when we were kids until we’re breathless, eyes shining, cheeks aching.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I forget everything. The weight on my shoulders, the uncertainty clawing at the edges of my thoughts. It all disappears.Right now, it’s just her and me, laughing in a way that feels as natural as breathing.
And God, I missed this. I missedher.
“Well, now I understand why you didn’t want to address these questions and concerns over email.” She says, collapsing back against her chair.
“Nah.” I wipe the moisture from the corner of my eyes. “I’ve always been an auditory learner. I process things best when I receive them orally.”
