I grab the takeout and my suitcase from the car, leaving the things I brought from Ethan’s bedroom and condo for another time.
Walking into the condo I share with Liv; she isn’t home yet.
As part of my graduation gift from college and law school, my parents gave me a nice down payment on this place. Liv and I split the mortgage and share a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom condo. Our styles clash a bit, so our decor is eclectic. I like calming, neutral colors, and Liv loves bright colors that stand out.
We have a bright orange couch that looks like it belongs in the 1970s and a sleek, modern, black coffee table in front of it. Liv has bright green and orange coffee mugs she uses every day, while I prefer simple white dishes. Somehow, it all works.
I quickly message my parents to let them know I made it safely, and then send a text to Sam.
Hey. I just wanted to let you know I made it back to Columbia.
Thanksfor letting me know.
I'm really glad I got to see you.
Me too.
Hopefully you can take a break over Thanksgiving.
Eager to see me again?
Is he flirting with me? God, I desperately want that to be the case. Not knowing, I decide to play it neutral.
Not eager, just want to make sure you see your dad more.
I'll do my best, Kitty Kat.
Why does his use of my nickname send shivers down my spine?A grin spreads across my face thinking about Sam.
I shoot Liv a message letting her know I’m home.
After eating dinner, I decide to unload the rest of the things from my car. It takes me two trips, and by the time I'm finished unpacking my suitcase, I hear Liv enter the condo.
"Hey girl," Liv shouts from the living room. "Did you already eat?"
“Yeah, I got Indian takeout. There’s some left in the fridge.”
I make my way into the kitchen and pull one of my favorite bottles of wine out of the fridge, which is covered in takeout menus—neither Liv or I cook very often—grab two glasses, and the corker before sitting down.
“So, tell me about lunch with Sam.”
I tell her everything, including that we promised to stay in touch more often.
“And how do you feel about all of this?” She asks, and I know she's just trying to open me up and help me process everything.
This is a little game we play when we know the other is struggling with things. We ask questions about feelings and how we want to handle things rather than giving opinions. It’s extremely helpful and extremely annoying.
I take a deep breath. “Honestly? He said we could be friends.” I wrinkle my nose. “That word feels wrong. I don’t want to be his friend—I’ve never wanted to be just friends with Sam.”
“So, what are you going to do about that?”
“What is there to do about it? He lives in Chicago. I live in Columbia. I’m not interested in a long-distance relationship. But more than that, how would we even truly get to know each other again when we would only see each other a couple of times a year?”
“Do you think you could rebuild your relationship with him by texting and calling regularly?”
“Maybe. I think it depends. All I know is that I don’t want to lose him again. Even if it means we’re just friends. A lot has happened between us. There’s a lot that we still have to talk about and work through. It’s gonna take some time.”
“It will take some time, but trust me, babe, it’ll be worth it.” Liv sighs and takes a sip of her wine, “I don’t want to work tomorrow. I have this monster of a client that wants white everything in herentire house.” She sticks out her tongue in mock disgust. “Fucking boring.”
