“And yet you’re still staring at the message.”
I was. I couldn’t stop.
Because part of me—a stupid, broken, still-not-healed part—remembered when Todd had looked at me like I was the answer to everything. Before I’d learned that “everything” came with conditions. Before “I love you” became “I love the you I thought you were” which became “you’re just not the woman I married anymore.”
He’d been my big choice. The one time I’d stopped spinning and committed.
And it had been so catastrophically wrong that I’d spent five years making sure I’d never risk being that wrong again.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from Todd:
“I mean it, Di. Something’s changed. I can feel it. Whatever’s happening with you right now—I want to be part of it.”
He could feel it. The magic. Whatever signal I was broadcasting that pulled in every romantic possibility—Todd had felt it three states away.
Because of course he had. Because the universe had decided that my magical romantic crisis wasn’t complicated enough without adding my ex-husband to the mix.
“You should block him,” Cassie said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to?”
I stared at the message. At all the complicated feelings it dragged up. At the part of me that still wondered if I’d given up too soon, tried hard enough, been enough.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I really don’t know.”
Marcus textedme at 11 PM.
I was lying in bed, phone in hand, having just deleted my fourth unsent reply to Todd. Tequila was curled against my hip, purring in a way that felt judgmental.
The radio’s stopped,Marcus’s message read.First time since this morning. It just… stopped.
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I typed the truth:
Maybe it’s tired.
Radios don’t get tired.
Magical radios might.
A pause. Then:
Fair point. Magical radios have their own rules, apparently.
I smiled at my phone, which was something I hadn’t done in response to a text in longer than I wanted to admit.
Thanks for coming today,I typed.I know it wasn’t what you wanted.
It wasn’t. But it helped. Understanding what’s happening, even if I hate it.
Do you still hate it?
Another pause. Longer this time.
I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.
Same time?
