Could I do that?Thumbing my free hand over the smooth fabric of the jersey, I pictured Damien’s face—the soft smiles he saved only for me, the way he held me close in the midnight hours, the stolen moments that existed only between the two of us. For a moment, Todd’s face flashed in my mind, as if trying to sully the moment. But for the first time in a long time, his presence didn’t weigh me down, didn’t make me feel as if I was trying to take a breath underwater. Instead, I was more annoyed, tired of focusing on my past when I might have so much more in the future.
My eyes flashed open at the thought. Ollie just shook her head with a knowing chuckle. “Go get your man, Bri. Stop overthinking and take what you want.”
The next morning,I still hadn’t decided what to do about Damien’s gift. Despite Ollie’s words, I couldn’t bring myself to let go, to let down that last wall in my heart. After I’d gone to bed, I sent off a text thanking him for the gift, but when he tried to call, it went to voicemail, all because I was too much of a coward to talk to him with my head so jumbled. I might say something stupid like how much I missed him, or that I’d watched all his games while he was on the road.
After Ollie headed off to her makeshift office for the day, I debated being productive. I even plotted a response to Brad’s email in my mind. But instead of stopping at my laptop, I passed right by it without a second thought, instead grabbing my e-reader and a fresh cup of coffee to head to the balcony. The citynoise met me as I slid open the glass door and took a seat at the bistro table tucked in the corner. Reaching out, I thumbed a few of the plants I’d brought back from the school, glad they were thriving in the fresh air.
As I slid into the seat and took a sip of my coffee, my phone dinged on the side table. I glanced at it just long enough to spot Todd’s name at the top of a message but didn’t bother to check it. It could live with the dozens of unanswered ones from the past month, ranging from a heart-felt apology to passive-aggressive messages when I refused to answer him.
If it kept going, I’d have to block him. I probably should have done that already, but guilt tugged in my gut. Todd might have changed throughout our marriage, but he’d been a major part of my life for so long, I couldn’t imagine never contacting him again. When things were good, he was my best friend—my first true confidant outside of my family.
And now? He was practically a stranger to me.
When we first split up, I convinced myself we’d become friends again one day, when the hurt was less. After almost a decade together, we had a shared history, one no one else understood. Late nights in our college dorms, our first terrible apartment with mold in the walls, the joy of starting our careers—Todd filled the frame in each of those memories, and for the longest time, letting go of him seemed like flushing them away as well. But with some distance, I’d seen those moments would always be a part of my story, even if I closed the chapter on Todd and me for good.
With that realization, I grabbed my phone, crafting a short but to the point message to Todd.
Me:Please stop contacting me. We said everything during our divorce proceedings. I have no interest in continuing our friendship and only wish to move on from our marriage in peace. If you can’t respect my wishes, I’ll block your number.
Todd: Bri, please. I need to talk to you. It’s important.
ME: Find someone else to talk to about it.
Three bubbles instantly popped up, followed by concurrent messages pleading for me to talk to him and hear him out. Instead of reading any more, I clicked the contact info bar in the corner of my messages and blocked his number. For a moment, I waited for a pang of regret or sadness to wash over me. Instead, a calmness washed over me, finally able to close the door on my past marriage for good. Instead of anger or betrayal, when I thought of Todd, only apathy remained.
“Better,” I whispered to myself as I shifted the phone to the other side of the table. But as my fingers touched the screen, another message came through. This time, Damien’s name sat at the top of my screen.
D
Are you avoiding me, angel?
My lip tucked between my teeth as I read the simple question. Was I avoiding him? Kind of. After his gift, my mind had been in a tailspin, but there was one universal truth in it all—I missed him. A groan left my throat at that realization. This was not what was supposed to happen. We were supposed to only be friends with benefits—sex was supposed to be the extent of our contact. Yet, the longer I stayed away from Damien, the more my stomach ached, desperate for him.
God, maybe I needed to end this thing.
My thumbs hovered over my phone, unsure what to even type.Sorry, Damien, but my stupid little heart is developing feelings for you, and I’m too cowardly to face them?The idea of saying that to him made my stomach lurch, twisting into a horrible knot. As much as my head told me to let him go, there was no way I’d be able to. Without trying, Damien had opened my heart, and walking away was no longer an option, not without crushing myself in the process.
As I debated what to say, my phone chimed again with another message.
D
I’m outside your place. Open the door, Bri.
“He’s where?” I asked as I darted through the apartment, as if I could see him waiting on the other side of the threshold. Instead, all I saw was my reflection in the glass door. “Oh my God,” I squealed as I took in my sloppy bun and stained pajamas.
Dashing through the apartment, I ignored the knocking, focusing instead on finding anything to wear other than my oversized teacher t-shirt with a dozen coffee stains all over it. I threw on some gym clothes and ran my fingers through my hair before walking over to the front door. When I placed my hand on the knob, I inhaled slowly, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, hating that the idea of seeing Damien again after only a few days apart made my heart patter so much faster. But even as I told myself those lies, it was hard to ignore my excitement.
“I can hear you overthinking from here, Bri.” Damien chuckled from the otherside. “C’mon, open up.”
My hand twisted the knob and pulled the door open to reveal a smirking Damien leaning against the frame. “About time,” he chuckled, looking all too casual as he toyed with the bundle of flowers in his fist. “Thought you were going to leave me out here all day.”
TWENTY-FOUR
What the fuck did I normally do with my hands?
Staring at the bouquet clutched in my fist, I tried to make myself appear casual, even though it was the exact opposite of how I felt. I wasn’t this guy—not the one who stood outside a girl’s apartment after spending way too much time searching through rows of flowers at the market. Everything about being here seemed wrong, but after a week without Brianna, I couldn’t force myself to stay away.
