“I don’t know.” My voice cracked. “He pulled away, Cass. After we almost kissed—after Greg showed up and ruined everything—he just shut down. Said ‘goodnight’ like he meant goodbye forever.”
“Do you think he did? Mean it?”
I thought about the way he’d looked at me right before the phone screamed. The way his hand had felt on my cheek. The way the radio had gone silent when he closed himself off.
“I think he’s scared,” I said slowly. “He lost his wife two years ago. He told me he’d never let anyone in again. And then I show up with my chaos and my possessed phone and almost kiss him, and then immediately get interrupted by a disco enthusiast with a mix tape.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. He’s pulling away. And I don’t know how to make him believe I’m not going to hurt him.”
“Do you want to? Make him believe?”
“Yes.” The word came out certain. Surprising myself. “I want him, Cass. Not because he makes the phone stop buzzing. Not because he’s safe. Because when I’m with him, I don’t want to run.”
“Then tell him that.”
“What if he says no?”
“Then at least you’ll know you tried.” She squeezed my hand. “But I don’t think he’ll say no. I think he’s just as scared as you are. He lost his wife. He’s been hiding in that shop for two years. And then you showed up and made him feel something, and that’s terrifying for someone who thought they were done feeling.”
From the living room, I heard Greg say, “This disco documentary is FAR OUT. Did you know the Bee Gees were actually brothers?”
“Yes,” Ryan said flatly. “Everyone knows that.”
“Wild, man. Wild.”
I looked at Cassie. She looked at me.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll go to the shop tomorrow. I’ll tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“That I want to try. That the interruption wasn’t me running. That I’m terrified, but I’d rather be terrified with him than safe without him.”
Cassie smiled. “That’s a start.”
It was. It was more than I’d been able to say in years.
I just hoped it would be enough.
7
BLOWUP
WHERE I GET CALLED OUT ON EVERYTHING I’VE BEEN AVOIDING.
Ididn’t sleep.
Two days. It had been two days since the almost-kiss, since Greg and his mix tape, since Marcus had said “Goodnight, Diane” in a voice that meant goodbye. Two days of chaos—exes appearing in my apartment, Todd showing up to be dismissed, my magic spiraling out of control.
Two days of silence from Marcus.
Last night, after Cassie left, I’d finally picked up my phone. Stared at his name. Typed and deleted and typed again.
I’m sorry about Greg.
Can we talk?
