“Mine are,” William said. “I’ve sent Shaun a few photos.”
“Has he replied?” I asked.
William nodded, smiling widely. He had a deep dimple in his one cheek that I’d never noticed before because his streaming camera faced his other side.
“Thanks,” I said, and took out my phone again before walking to my bedroom. Still unread. I hit the call button and held it to my ear.
Voicemail.
I did it again.
Voicemail.
Turning around, I found Lincoln in the doorframe, his brows drawn close. “Everything all right?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump growing in my throat. Lincoln couldn’t see me cry. I wouldn’t allow it. I’d already ambushed him once; crying would force him into comforting me. And hewouldcomfort me. At his own expense.
“Okay,” he said, unconvinced.
“Are they staying over?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Leaving to a nearby cabin.” He pulled on the drawstring of his gray sweatpants. Casual Lincoln was an entirely different experience from formal Lincoln.
My mind locked away every detail for safekeeping because a part of me worried that every time we spoke could be the last.
“You don’t have to hide in here,” he said.
The striking sound of something sizzling drew my attention, and Lincoln glanced over his shoulder. His soft smile returned. He stepped out of the way, revealing William in the kitchen frying onions in what smelled like a generous amount of garlic.
“Do you have pepper? We didn’t bring any since I assumed the two of you weren’t living like savages,” William said without turning around.
Lincoln shook his head, and a chuckle slipped out. He left my doorway and retrieved the pepper from the cupboard underneath the microwave. William hoorayed, and again, Lincoln laughed. He hadn’t laughed since I’d arrived here. I’d thought he’d forgotten how.
There was excited chatter coming from the living room, and my heart twisted in the strangest of ways. I looked back down at my phone where my text was left unsent. My eyes stung, and I reached out and closed the door before any of them could see I was about to cry. Again.
I didn’t need my sadness to drown their party, and besides, these were his friends and they all knew I’d hurt him. I couldn’t go out there, and thankfully I hadn’t drunk much so I wouldn’t even need to use the bathroom. If I were quiet enough, they would forget I was even here.
I’d just have to ignore my grumbling stomach. Whatever William was cooking smelled delicious.
One of the girls shrieked, and it was followed by William’s loud laughter. I could bet Lincoln was chuckling in his soft and bashful way.
A new and unexpected longing curled inside me. I’d never had that. And I wanted it. Desperately.
In a moment of defeat, I finally opened the article and faced my punishment for turning down a conversation with Douglas Gordon-Bettencourt.
41
LINCOLN
[40 weeks ago]
@theanswerisno:
I don’t know how to comfort my best friend who is currently going through some trouble
@pancakesareelite:
Ask her what she needs
