“I have to go. I’ll be late.”
“Fine.” The tightness in his voice indicates that it’s really notfinefor her to leave like this.
But every fiber of her being is screaming to flee.
She’s halfway through the door when she glances back at him. His expression makes her wince.Confusion? Disappointment?But she doesn’t turn around.
In her entire life, she’s never gotten dressed faster.
21
JOSH STARES UP AT THEplaster crack in the ceiling that he’s failed to address for the last eight months. It feels like an apt metaphor for his current emotional state.
He’d worried she’d slip out in the middle of the night, so it was a pleasant surprise when he’d awoken twice and found her softly snoring next to him.
Maybe the encore this morning was a bridge too far. Instead of pressing his luck, he could’ve gotten up and made her breakfast. She’s incapable of leaving a room where food is on the table. This would occur to himnow,two minutes after she’s out the door.
Or maybe it all unfolded exactly as it was supposed to.
Because she fucking said “I love you” clear as day and that has tomeansomething no matter what the context is and she didn’t explain it which means she didn’t take it back but she also didn’t acknowledge it and holy fucking shit he’s going to spin on this unless he gets his mind under control.
He’s not letting himself celebrate it. Not yet.
Instead, he’s running the events of yesterday over and over in his mind on a loop, where all the questionable shit gets warped and exaggerated and interrogated until it seems like the entire twelve hours was a long, tense argument with a few minutes of sex thrown in.
And now every single variable needs to be reexamined in order to create the right circumstance for the last twelve hours to happen again, but with a different ending.
What if he was supposed to run after her? If he’s already fucked that up, then should he call? Or, if that’s too much, what—does he text her? And when? There’s a decision tree here, already branching out of control. If he had something better to do with his time, he could distract himself.
But he doesn’t have anything else.
What he needs is an objective opinion. Someone who knows Ari and isn’t related to him and doesn’t hate his fucking guts.
He reaches for his phone. There is one someone who knows Ari, isn’t related to him, and well…does hate him. But he’ll have to settle for two out of three.
Mon, Jan 16, 7:36a.m.
Josh:I need you to decode something.
Radhya:Who is this?
Josh:Josh.
Josh:Kestenberg
Radhya:we do NOT have a texting relationship after one lukewarm apology
Especially before 10 am
Josh:Did she talk to you already?
Radhya:who?
Who?Before he can answer, another notification comes in.
Briar:Morning, sunshine.
You left so fast yesterday.
