“We just had a very serious —”
“A yes or no question, Cassian. Very simple. I’ll wait.”
“No.” Flat. Final. “It’s been done for a long time. Since the movies, basically. It was —” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. It never even started.”
“Since the movies.” I stare at him. “You mean since you watched me kiss someone else and lost your mind about it.”
“I didn’t lose my —”
“You knocked your seat back so hard the whole row looked at you.”
“That’s not —”
“Cassian.”
He says nothing.
Which is an answer.
• • •
I feel something settle in me that I probably shouldn’t feel right now but do anyway.
“Okay,” I say. “Good.”
“Good,” he repeats.
“Great.”
“Are we done?”
“I just want it on record that I called it.”
I stare at the ceiling.
My mom would be so happy he came back.
• • •
That thought comes in like light and grief all at once.
She’d have made too much food and hovered near the door with an excuse to come in and check on us and pretended she wasn’t doing any of those things.
She’d have left a snack outside my door.
She’d have known before I said a word and loved him for it anyway.
• • •
But then she’s not here anymore.
I close my eyes.
Who’s going to take care of her garden now.
The daisies.
All those daisies.
