She answers on the second ring. “Well?”
I huff out a laugh. “Hello to you too.”
“You left me on read three hours ago. Are you okay? What happened?”
I step off the shoulder when a car passes. “You won’t believe who’s here, Isla.”
“Um, I have no idea.”
“Tully.”
A long pause. I can practically hear her rearranging her thoughts, putting them in neat, labeled bins the way she always does. I’ve never been good at that. My bins are more like piles.
“Wow. How does he seem?” she prompts.
“He’s…Tully.” I swallow. “The same. But different. Older. Not older. Still gorgeous. Maybe more serious. I don’t know. He looked at me, and it was like my chest forgot how to function.”
She exhales slowly. “Lola.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “This is the last thing I needed to decide whether to move on with Patrick. But he knew there was a chance we’d see Tully. I’m so mad at him. I don’t know why he’d put me in this situation if he really wanted to win me back.”
“Wait. He planned this trip knowing Tully would be there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of messed up. Or maybe he senses that there’s no closure there. Are you sure you’re not just looking for more reasons to break up with him?” she asks gently.
“Yes.” The answer comes too fast. Defensive. I wince at my own tone. “I mean, this does give me more reasons.”
“True. But you’re there to focus on Patrick, to figure out your future,” she says. “Not reopen your past.”
I kick at a rock in the road, sending it skittering into the adjacent ditch. “It’s not that simple.”
“It kind of is.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “You didn’t see the way Tully looked at me.”
“It’s taken you so long to get over him. I’d hate to see youthrow away a new relationship and backtrack,” she continues. “You’re juggling too many balls. And you’ve never been great at juggling.”
“You’re right about that.”
“You don’t have to solve everything at once. But maybe don’t add more to your plate.”
“It just hurts to see him.”
Silence stretches between us. The wind picks up, threading through the trees with a hollow whistle.
“Are you going to tell him?” she asks.
My stomach churns. “No, there’s no way I can tell him everything.”
Isla doesn’t even know everything.
I hear a car coming and move closer to the edge of the road, glancing back once. The car doesn’t pass. It slows.
“Hang on,” I murmur.
The car rolls up beside me, engine humming low. The passenger window slides down. Tully leans across the center console, forearm draped over the steering wheel. Light catches in his hair and glints along the edge of his jaw. His eyes find mine, and my heart jolts.
