“Goodnight, Evan.”
I flee before he can respond.
* * *
My phone buzzes as I'm unlocking my apartment door.
Evan
For the record, I've never gotten that particular compliment before.
We're never speaking of this again.
Noted.
* * *
I’ve just pulled on my sleep shirt when my phone pings again. Emma this time.
Emma
How'd it go?
Fine. Good. His mom hates me but I got them a huge donation so mixed results.
And? How are the heart-eyes?
You know this is just for show, right?
YEAH RIGHT.
Okay but what if I'm getting confused? Like, what if I'm just caught up in the performance of it all and I don't know what's real anymore?
Oh honey.
You want my actual advice? Not the fun teasing kind?
Yes please.
You're the most self-aware person I know. You don't get ‘confused’ about your feelings. If you think you like him, you like him. Trust yourself.
But what if making it real ruins what we have?
What if not making it real means you never find out how good it could be?
I sit with that.
When did you get wise?
I married Tom. Clearly I know things.
Also, for what it's worth? The way he looked at you this weekend? That wasn't pretending. That was a man who's already fallen. The only question is whether you're brave enough to catch him.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, Emma's words circling.
The only question is whether you're brave enough to catch him.
My phone lights up one more time.
