We have, but that’s not what I mean, and she knows it, which tells me she’s okay with us not talking. Maybe that is for the best. We’ve been attached at the hip since we were in college. We can manage a few days without talking. Who knows? Maybe it could bring back that spark that’s been missing for so long.
“How are things going?” I ask, not wanting to get into it now. “How’s the writing?”
“It’s…” She sighs dreamily. “It’s amazing, Callum. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun working. It’s like every day is a new one, and there’s always something new to learn. I feel so…refreshed.”
The giddiness in her voice is almost infectious, and I find myself smiling as I stare out of my apartment window. It’s some fancy place another teammate suggested. I’m sure it’s not where I’ll end up staying whenever Chloe comes back, but it’ll be fine in the interim.
“You sound happy, Clover.”
“I am. I really, really am.”
Then she’s quiet.Tooquiet. I try not to read too much into it, but it’s nearly impossible because that’s all I have these days—silence. Our texting has been sporadic at best, and whenever I do get a message, it feels half-baked and without any real substance. I’ve gotten the sense she’s avoiding me, but I can’t seem to figure out why.
“So, are you getting excited about coming home? Seattle is great. You’re going to love the weather here. And the apartment. The tub is massive, and I know you love a good bath.”
“I do love a bath.”
But there’s next to no emotion behind her words. It’s like she’s a robot I’m trying to form a connection with, and nothing is going as planned.
“Listen, Callum…” she says, but I don’t want to listen at all. Her tone is off. It’s wrong. And there is no doubt in my mind I’m not going to like what comes next.
“I was thinking of staying a little longer.”
“S-Staying?” I hate how shaky the word comes out. “In London?”
“Yes. At least for a while. I just need…I don’t know. I need more time, I think. There’s still so much I want to learn.”
“Oh.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all I have because I don’t know what else to do in this situation. She wants to stay? Thousands of miles away? Hours and hours of time difference? An entire fucking continent? And for how long? Weeks? Another month? Ayear?
An ache I’ve never felt before forms in my chest, and I rub at the spot that burns as if I’ve eaten way too much red sauce.
“Uh, how long were you thinking of staying?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Are you sure about anything?”
I say it before I can think about the consequences of the words, and they fall heavily between us, like a bomb dropping from the sky. What’s even more devastating is her silence. It’s fucking deafening, and I wish more than anything I could rewind the last thirty seconds and take it all back.
“No,” she finally says after what feels like years. “I’m not.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Not even the picturesque view of the city can save me now.
“What does that mean, Clover?”
“I…”
But she doesn’t finish her thought, and it pisses me off. I’ve been sitting around waiting for her forthree monthsnow. I’ve given her the space she obviously wanted. I’ve stepped back in so many ways. But if she won’t tell me what she wants, what the hell am I supposed to do next?
“Do you mean with your career or…us?”
“Us.” She whispers it, but it certainly doesn’t feel like she does. “I’m not sure about us anymore. I think we should separate.”
She…wants to separate? Isn’t that what we’re doing right now? There’s a fucking ocean and more between us—weareseparated, in more ways than one.
“Do you mean…a divorce?”
