“She doesn’t owe me anything. I know that.”
“I know you know,” Erin says. Then, gentler, “Don’t waste it.”
I nod. Once. “I won’t.”
We catch up to the others. Mom turns, smiling, and askswhich restaurant we’re headed to. Dmitri leads us to the cars and asks us to follow him.
I glance back toward the buildings I’ve spent four years orbiting. Toward the lecture hall where I first sat next to her and thought I could charm my way into her life without consequences.
I was wrong about a lot of things that day.
I don’t see her yet.
But for the first time in a long time, the waiting doesn’t feel like punishment. It feels like space. Like room to become someone worth waiting for.
I turn back toward the cars. Toward my family. Toward whatever comes next.
And I wait.
38
GRAVITY, REDEFINED (WREN)
Erin’s text comes in at 11:47 a.m.
I stare at it longer than necessary. Not because I don’t know what it means, but because I do.
ERIN
We’re on campus for Kieran’s graduation
We’re heading to lunch around one
If you’re free, come join us at Giulia
No pressure
I’d just love to see you
Aubrey is sitting cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by open tabs, half-packed boxes, and a color-coded calendar that had weight two weeks ago.
She stops pretending not to watch my face. “O’Connor?”
“His sister,” I say. “She wants to get lunch.”
“With you?”
“With everyone.” I exhale. “Including him.”
Aubrey lifts an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I’ve been successfully not running into him for two months.”
“That’s a skill,” she says. “Very tactical. Strategic.”
Part of me wants to see them. Mary’s warmth. Erin’s friendship. Sophie’s easy acceptance.
But “them” includes Kieran, and I don’t know if I’m ready to sit across from him and act as if two months changed what happened.
