“I’ll come home as soon as I can, and we’ll be together.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
I shook off the memories, and replied, “Of course you can.”
He slipped off not only his leather coat, but his suit jacket as well, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Were we preparing for battle?
I swallowed and looked away, pretending not to notice his muscular arms and the fine golden hairs glinting on his sun-kissed skin. For the first time in over twenty years, we were alone without any worry about someone “catching” us doing something we shouldn’t.
“You redecorated. I like it, especially the kitchen.”
“After my father died, I figured it would be a good time to redo the place. And once the building went co-op, it made sense to upgrade everything.”
Were we in the middle of an episode ofHouse Hunters? Why was Ezra commenting on my decorating skills when we had twenty-three years of silence to figure out?
“So.” His direct gaze unnerved me more than being on display when I defended my PhD dissertation.
“So.”
Ezra rubbed his hands against his thighs and curled his hands into fists. “Roe, this is stupid. Why’re you so mad at me? I’m not saying things didn’t change over the years, but you’re treating me like an enemy. Like I hurt you somehow, and I don’t get it.”
It seemed so ridiculous to hash out this cold, dead romance all these years later, yet we’d never be able to act civilly to each other unless we did. The ability to see Ezra and not get a stomachful of painfully tumbling nerves was enough of an impetus to put on my practical hat and hopefully end this quickly.
I gave him what I hoped was a friendly enough smile. “I really don’t understand why all this matters anymore. We were kids, and of course things were bound to change once you moved to California. I never really expected you to answer my letters.”
“What’re you talking about?” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “I did.”
I grew impatient. “Come on. Let’s not get technical. Yeah, we wrote a little, but you stopped answering me, and I understood. You had a new life and wanted to forget. It hurt, but I got over it. I mean, we’re forty-year-old men. I’m not Rapunzel in a tower, pining away for her man. I’m over it.”
“We can be over it and still want the truth. I’m telling you I wrote, but you stopped writing back after…” He paused and frowned, as if searching for an answer. “After three or four months.” His mouth drooped. “I figured you got tired of me and decided to hell with it and met someone else.”
“But how can that be?” I jumped from my seat, now fully invested in this flashback. “I kept writing. I thought maybe if I did, you’d see I was trying to keep our promise. I never met anyone else. I told you everything in those letters.”
“And I’m telling you, I got some letters, but then you stopped writing.”
Agitated, I ceased my frenetic pacing and stared at Ezra. “You never even tried to call.”
A flush rose to his cheeks. “I wasn’t going to call you and beg you to be my friend. I remember calling once, but no one picked up. Then my parents had me so busy working in the company, I had no time for anything but school, work, and sleep.”
Should I tell him about the one time I did scrape enough together to call? I had nothing left to lose. “I called you.”
His downcast gaze flashed to mine, a look of such pure shock, there could be little doubt of his ignorance. “What?”
“About a year after you moved. I hadn’t heard from you in months, so I saved my money and bought a calling card. I didn’t have money for cell phones, and I couldn’t afford the charges to call the West Coast from my parents’ phone. With the time zone difference, I figured later at night would be the best time to call you, especially during the week with school. A housekeeper answered, but instead of putting you on, your mother took the phone.”
“No way.” The pain and hurt in his eyes couldn’t be feigned—Ezra had no clue what I was talking about.
“Yeah. I spoke to your mother.”
“No. You couldn’t have. Sh-she never told me. She never said anything. It must’ve been a mistake.” He shook his head. “It had to be. She knew how much you meant to me and that keeping you away would hurt me. You must’ve misheard her.”
For the first time since he reappeared in my life, I felt sorry for Ezra.
“There’s no mistake. She knew exactly who I was. We talked, and she told me to please leave you alone. That you were done with me and wished I’d stopped writing.” The pain of that conversation was as fresh and bright as if it happened yesterday. He had to know the truth. “She said you’d been dating other people. Girls, in particular.”
Ezra made no move to wipe the wetness off his cheeks. “I can’t believe this. She never said anything. I-I gave up hoping when you stopped writing. She told me…she told me you forgot me…” Unable to continue, Ezra cradled his head in his hands. After a few moments, he met my gaze with confusion. “Why? Why would she do this to me? Why?”
Helpless to stem the tide of Ezra’s overwhelming pain and anguish, I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know, Ez. But I’m telling you the truth. I wrote to you all through that year, but I refused to squeeze blood from a stone. I had some pride, you know.” Pride that had been shattered when I was dismissed from Ezra’s life.
