In another life, maybe we could have been something.
Maybe he could have shown me more colors.
It would be smart to let him go. Before I got hurt. Before I hurt him. There was no way for this to ever be more than it was.
The city lights blinked out gradually. I watched each one. The room grew darker, the night colder. Quieter.
I was so tired.
Navy to cobalt.
Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep.
Monday. The weekend had passed as it always did. I stayed in my apartment, at my desk, with Aurelia for company.
Benny messaged me from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. He told me everything—what he was eating, the elements of his workout, how his nephews were doing in school.
It was information that shouldn’t have mattered to me, yet I found myself soaking it in far more eagerly than anything I wassupposedto be working on.
My phone buzzed.
Initially, I hadn’t opened his messages outside the penthouse, but I’d since allowed myself to respond during travel time too.
6:50 a.m. B:
What did you have for breakfast?
It buzzed again seconds later—a picture of toast with peanut butter and banana, a pink smoothie to the side.
6:51 a.m. B:
If you say it was that bland-looking protein shake again, I will cry.
I snorted a laugh before catching myself, my eyes darting up to meet Matthew’s in the rearview mirror. He looked away.
6:52 a.m. H:
I won’t say it, then.
6:52 a.m. B:
That’s basically saying it.
6:52 a.m. H:
Basically saying it isn’t the same as saying it.
6:53 a.m. B:
I think it is.
6:53 a.m. H:
You can be wrong, then.
6:53 a.m. B:
[crying emoji] [crying emoji] [crying emoji]
