“Mia, I swear to God, if you give Ben his phone back…”
“Calm down, the both of you! I’m putting you on speaker. Go ahead.”
I inhale slowly, staring at the zen garden in an attempt to absorb all the zen I can. It doesn’t help. The garden mocks me, and I give it a vicious little rake in retaliation before turning my back on it. “So, long story short, you know how I came to New York to give Danny The Letter?”
“Yes,” they answer in unison like a freaky married couple.
I nervously twirl a curl. “Well, when I got here, one thing led to another, and I kind of just came back to his giant house with him.”
“Back all the way up,” Ben loudly interjects. “What did he say when he saw you for the first time in ten years?”
“He said, ‘Hi, Gracie.’”
The line goes silent for a few moments. Then, Ben’s incredulous voice—“Hi? All he said washi?”
“I mean, he asked me how I enjoyed the game.”
“Like it was a regular Sunday?!” Ben exclaims.
Mia follows up with a gentle, “How was it for you?”
“I guess it was strange, but familiar. Strange that he didn’t even ask what brought me here, familiar in that it’s…us.”
“Hmm…interesting. So, he invited you to his house?”
“Yeah, and it’s actually been…pretty great catching up.” I pause, pulling in a shaky breath. “I think he regrets what happened between us.”
“I’m happy for you, Grace,” Ben says warmly.
“You owe me twenty dollars,” I hear Mia mumble to Ben.
I roll my eyes. “Anyway, he has pictures of us here from childhood on his wall, like more than a few pictures.”
Ben cuts in. “Okay, I feel like we’re back in a criminal law situation now…”
“Let me finish! He’s been really sweet, but you know how my emotions are all over the place when it comes to Danny.”
“If by ‘all over the place’ you mean you’re deeply in love with him, then yeah, your emotions are all over the place,” Ben deadpans.
“Wait,what?”
“Huh?”
I blink. “You think I’m in love with him?”
The pause that follows my question is long enough for me to know they are working out who is going to be the one to break the news.
Mia’s voice softens as she gently explains, “Weknowyou’re in love with him. It’s been ten years, and it’s very clear that you’ve never gotten over him. When you see something that reminds you of him, you tear up. You haven’t talked about what happened with him once. Sometimes it feels like the two of you somehowjustbroke up. You’ve never closed the wound, babe.”
My stomach floods with that anxious feeling you only get when a friend reveals a harsh truth to you.
Ben interrupts. “We’re just happy you’ll finally be off the dating apps. You don’t take them seriously anyway. You meet a guy and put him through an extremely strange set of impossible requirements. None of them ever pass. You’re like a reverse maneater.”
“Hey!” I exclaim defensively. “Henry passed.”
“Henry was three years ago, and he lives in China now.”
“Well, we still dated,” I protest.
