But whatever it is goes deeper than our first round. Phoebe is part of the reason: watching the way he interacts with her lights up pieces of me inside I forgot existed. It gives me hope I’d given up on a long time ago.
I can feel the panic rising, so I brave a quick peek around my door. Our space is small, and I can see straight across the whole apartment. His head tips back in a laugh, and Phoebe is covered in flour. The garland spread across my mantle flickers alive, then steadies.
I’m surprised he’s not teasing me about having some Christmas out before Thanksgiving. But then again, he brought me poinsettias.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and pull up Abby.
Me
EMERGENCY.
Abby
What? What’s wrong? Is the apartment flooding now?
Don’t wish that on me.
What’s wrong with you?
A lot of things.
Then what’s wrong?
Aiden is here.
Like... at your house HERE?
Yes.
I NEED DETAILS.
An incoming video chat pops up on my screen, and I immediately press the answer button.
“You can’t scream, Abby. This has to stay quiet.”
“Don’t put me on speaker then. You know I’m not a speaker-friendly friend, Chloe!”
I chuckle because she’s not wrong. “My earbuds are in the kitchen.”
“Start talking. Fast,” she says, motioning with her hand for me to spill and leaning toward the screen intently.
I tell her about how we ran into each other at the store and our conversation. How he went back and bought my daughter cookies—a beautiful, tiny human he’s only met twice—and all the decorations to go with them. It felt like we’d never stop pulling things out of the bags, and her face as we unloaded them was pure joy.
Every expression shift on Abby’s face is exactly why I told her I’m having an emergency. And why every feeling fighting for space in my chest is freaking me out.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell her.
She holds up a finger like she’s ready to scold me. “You knowexactlywhat to do. You’re just a big chicken.”
“I’m not achicken,” I hiss.
“Then why aren’t you out there, rolling sugar cookie dough with that gorgeous man?”
That’s the question I don’t know how to answer.
Because all I’ve done is navigate one crisis after another since we ran into each other again, and he keeps coming in and saving the day. Because there’s no way I can ever repay the kindness he’s extending us, even when he’s grumbly about it.
Because it’s unearthing feelings about him I worked hard to bury ten years ago, and I don’t know how I’lleverget them under control again.
