“No, but I am surprised I’m still up. I took melatonin a bit ago. Okay, I thought of another rule: honesty.”
“Have you been dishonest with me?” Isaac groans, and while he probably didn’t intend it to be, it’s sexy as fuck.
“Yeah,” I admit softly. “I never had a scheduling conflict, I just didn’t think I could face you after all this time. I, well… I miss you, and know it would hurt if I had to see you in person, and we’d have to be professional when all I’d want to do is… I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“This is exactly what we should be talking about, Livy. I miss you too. When my communications team suggested that I go on a few dates to squash the rumors and gossip, all I could think was that I'd rather be on a date with you, splitting a plate of nachos like we did on our first date.”
“This is what I was afraid of.” I let out a long yawn. “We haven’t spoken a single word to each other in years, but it’s like no time’s passed talking to you. You should go on dates. I should too. It isn’t as if you and I could ever be more than friends.”
“You wouldn’t be jealous?” he teases, and I can’t help smiling at his taunt.
“Of course I would,” I admit a little too easily, and quickly correct, “but that isn’t an excuse to not meet someone new. You never know, maybe you’ll find your soulmate; the woman you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I already met my soulmate… and lost her.”
“Isaac,” I breathe, my throat tight at his admission.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay, but… maybe… we should… talk… ” My eyes are heavy, and I mumble something to him about talking to him tomorrow as I drift off to sleep.
I wake after a few minutes, gasping as I sit up. Glancing over at my phone, it hasn’t been a few minutes, it’s been five hours—the timer of the phone call still ticking.
“Isaac,” I whisper, pulling the phone to my ear.
“Hey, baby.”
My breath catches at his sultry voice.
Did he just call me baby? He called me that earlier, but it’s been years.
No, I have to be dreaming.
Is someone there with him?
Does he think I’m someone else?
I rub my eyes, blinking away the sleep, then pinch my leg. Definitely not dreaming.
“Sorry I fell asleep,” I rush out. “I should go. Have a good night.”
“Olivia.” My name comes out like a sexy growl, making my heart lodge itself in my throat—not to mention the ache building in my core. “Plug in your phone, but don’t hang up.”
“W-why?”
“Why not?”
I huff a humorless laugh. “Because you said we could be friends, and you calling me ‘baby’ is far from friendly.”
“Old habits die hard.” The admission makes my heart flutter. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, but since I just had the best few hours of sleep in years, and I have to be up in a few hours anyway… will you stay on the phone with me?”
I imagine him lying in bed—maybe on a queen or king-sized mattress—the other side cold. As selfish as the thought is, I hope it hasn’t been inhabited by another woman recently. I never should’ve suggested he date other women. While it’s practical, it also cracks my heart. Time truly is irrelevant if after years it hurts to think of him with someone else. I don’t think I’ll ever be over him.
Sliding my hand over my own cool comforter, I shift onto my side toward the empty space beside me, and can’t help asking, “Do you still sleep on the right side of the bed?”
“Do you still sleep on the left?”
“Nah, I’m like a little starfish taking up every inch of real estate,” I tease, struggling to not giggle.
