“I’m sorry about how we broke up. I’m sorry I stayed away. What I did was inexcusable and I would like to talk about it if you are willing.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I’m not. You really need to ask yourself why you are apologizing. Are you saying it to make yourself feel better? To ease your conscience? Or are you trying to make me feel better? Because I don’t need that – I’m fine. We are years past any explanation and that apology.”
“I hurt you. I left you when you needed me and I’ve regretted it every day since. I just think there are some things you need to know.”
“You’re not listening to me, Logan. I’ve moved on. I don’t want an explanation. Maybe someday but today is not it. I can accept that you are living here again. I acknowledge that weshare friends and will be spending time around each other. I’m willing to try and rebuild some sort of friendship, but it’s not going to be the same because trusting you won’t come easy.”
I watch him gather his thoughts and swallow before he says, “Okay, I understand. But I do have another apology to make.”
“Oh yeah?” I sit back in my chair and tilt my head. This should be good.
“I’m sorry about calling you last night. I hope I wasn’t inappropriate or anything. I feel like an idiot.”
“It’s fine. However, you did look like an idiot.” I grin.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks at me.
“You saw that? Of course you did. I’m not sure how I’m going to live this down. Do you know anyone who can scrub the internet?”
“I don’t. But even if you can figure that out, which is highly unlikely, the citizens of Emerley never forget. Ever.” I laugh.
“Don’t remind me.” He places his elbows on the table and holds his head for a moment before sitting back up and giving is head a slight shake, mumblingfuck my lifeunder his breath.
I snort laugh.
“Despite everything that has happened, I was wondering if we can try to get to know each other again? Try to be friends. Sitting here talking with you is – nice. I really have missed this.”
“How would you like to do that?” I’m not trying to be difficult, but I can’t help pushing back.
Maybe he deserves difficult.
“How about you tell me something I don’t know.”
“Like what?” This is such a bad idea.
“Work with me, Hannah, I’m trying here.” His eyes are pleading. “You have already told me a little about the gallery. How about you tell me about moving out here.”
“Okay. Dad left the cabin to me in his will,” I share. “He never told me, so I was really surprised and incredibly grateful. I moved here when I was around twenty-four.”
“It looks great.” He looks around my space. It’s not huge but it’s perfect for me.
“Thank you. I love it here, and I’m proud of the home I have created.”
My grandparents built the two-bedroom cabin as a cottage in the 1960’s when waterfront property was dirt cheap. They lived in a house in the village; this was just their little hideaway. Though it’s been well cared for over the years, it felt thrilling to make it truly mine. I filled it with colour, texture, and functional art. I loaded the bookcases with my favourite books and added a cozy reading chair beside the stone fireplace.
Moving back home, after living independently for a couple of years, was challenging. I had all these new adult responsibilities that I wasn’t prepared for, while still sleeping in my childhood bedroom. It definitely wasn’t an ideal situation. I love living full time on the lake, amongst the trees and ever-growing deer population. I’m happy here.
“How’s your mom?” he asks with a gentle smile.
“She’s doing well. She keeps busy with volunteering and her gardens.” It doesn’t feel right to share beyond that. My mom deserves the privacy she has earned.
He nods his head. “Is Francis still helping her?”
“She does but not as much as she used to. They have become good friends over the last few years. How’s your family?”
“Umm good, I guess. I talk to my dad a few times a month. Mom not as much.”
Squinting, I cock my head to the side. “Oh? Is there a reason for that?”
