Page 12 of The Two of Us

Not yours, Mara. Not anymore.

I finally allow myself to meet his gaze and his moss-colored eyes strike me with immediate knowing.

Another cut.

They’re the same eyes I’ve always loved but they’ve aged. They carry a hint of sorrow, and if I’m not mistaken, a shade of regret. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting patiently for the quiet little mouse to speak up.

“Ambrose…” I breathe. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here, Mara?”

“Oh, you know. Visiting.” My casual facade cracks under my unsteady voice.

“No, I don’t know,” he says bluntly. “I haven’t seen you in seven years.”

Let’s get right to it then.

My ears burn, my eyes burn… everything. Everything burns. Ambrose King is my inferno. He always has been. My feet begin to backtrack on their own accord. “Listen, I can’t stay and talk. I’m in a rush and I need to get all these things back to my dad’s.” I gesture in front of me, but when I swivel my cart, Ambrose imitates my movement, blocking my escape.

“That’s it?” he bites out. “You’re just going to leave again?” He’s not angry, he’s furious. I watch with rapt attention as his hand flexes and he runs it down his face, blowing out a harsh breath. “Look. Can we just talk? I have so many questions. Where have you been—are you okay?”

He steps toward me and suddenly he’s in my space, our bodies only a few inches apart. The very marrow in my bones is drawn to him, so much so, I find myself leaning in.

NO.

I jerk back with my cart and it hits a table with a pyramid display of bagels. They begin rolling onto the floor and suddenly I’m scrambling, trying to catch them in my arms. “No, Ambrose. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I squeak, scrambling to fix the display before drawing any more attention to ourselves.

Ambrose grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Forget the fucking bagels, Mara.” His breath brushes across my face and I don’t miss the way his eyes fall to my mouth. The bagels fall from my hands to the ground with a soft thud. “Is this about what happened with Cat?” he says, breathing hard and my blood runs cold at the mention of her name. Once he sees my disposition shift, his voice softens. “Mara… if you left because of what happened—”

“No,” I say with more force than I intend and his eyes widen at my tone. “There’s no need to rehash everything. It’s in the past. I don’t think about any of that anymore.”

Lie.

“I’ve moved on and I’m happy and I hope you’re happy too, I really do. I’m not the same person I was seven years ago. We have nothing to talk about. Nothing. So please… please just leave me alone.”

The thing about Ambrose is that you don’t have to tell him something twice. He respects boundaries and if you tell him to leave you alone, that’s exactly what he’ll do. Do I really want that? A small part of me, the part of me that hopes and wants for things, says to retract my words, but I smother it down.

Ambrose dips his chin in a stiff nod. “Take care of yourself, Mara.”

Cuts. Cuts everywhere and I’m bleeding out.

His retreating footsteps are drowned out by the music I danced to not five minutes ago and now I know what it feels like to have the person you love walk away from you.

I haul my heavy limbs toward the self-checkout lane, seizing three bottles of wine along the way. And for someone who’s a mouse, I despise the hell out of the silence that envelops me.

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