Griffin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, man, it’s fine. We’re just talking.”
Wes is still looking at me. I give him a small nod.
“Can we get a little privacy?” Griffin asks.
“If you wanted privacy, you shouldn’t have been yelling loud enough that I could hear it from next door.”
Griffin looks confused. “This isn’t one of your cousins?”
Gah,I know I have a big family, but we’ve been together a year. You’d think he’d know my family by now.
“No, Wes is an old friend.”
And then I see recognition on his face.
“The picture of you dancing. With him.”
I nod and look at Wes. “It’s all good. We’re just talking.”
Wes stands there a few more seconds. He starts to walk away, then stops and asks, “Any word on Margot and the baby?”
Griffin’s head pops up. “Did something happen?”
“She’s in the hospital,” I say, then turn to Wes. “I haven’t heard anything new. They’re trying to control the swelling and stop her contractions.”
Wes gives me a small smile. “She’s tough. I know they’re both going to be okay.”
And then he’s gone.
Hearing about Margot takes some of the fight out of Griffin. He drops down on the bottom stair.
“I’m sorry, Soph. I know how worried you must be.”
I mumble a thanks, and we’re back to awkward silence. Finally, Griffin says, “All I’m asking for is another chance. I don’t want things to be over for us.”
“You’re going to have to let me think about it. There’s so much that’s happened in the last few days, I can’t think straight.”
He nods. “Do you plan on having any more dates while you’re here?”
I picture the board in the kitchen. I could put an end to it. Tell Nonna that Griffin and I are trying to work things out. But something is holding me back. So instead I tell Griffin about Nonna’s plan.
And it’s clear when I finish that Griffin isn’t happy. “So even though I’m here, telling you that I want us to get back together, you’re still going to go on six more dates?”
I look him in the eye. “I feel like I’ve learned more about myself in the last four days than I have in the last four years. And it’s not like I’m really looking forward to the upcoming dates. But I need to finish what I started.”
This is the moment. Either he’ll get what I’m saying or he’ll be gone. I’m not sure what it says about us that I can’t decide which way I want it to go.
He gets up quickly, almost falling back down before righting himself. He paces up and down the front walk like he’s trying to wrap his head around my words. Finally, he stops and turns toward me.
“I think we both got lazy. If you go back and look at early pics of us, I think you’ll find you were as happy then as you look in the ones being posted now. And I think we can get back to that place. At least, that’s what I want.”
I start to say something—what, I’m not even sure—but he holds a hand up, stopping me.
“But I agree you should finish what you started, because you need to be one hundred percent sure I’m what you want.”
He spins around and gets back in his truck. He’s driving away before his words have even completely registered.
Is he right? I keep thinking about how different these last few days have been, but what if it’s because I’m not really remembering what things were like with us in the beginning? Is it fair to compare the excitement of a first date—or four first dates—to the familiarity of a long-term relationship?
