Page 563 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

The wind blows again.

The lip of the bottle taps my front tooth.

Then the air behind my chair goes still.

He’s standing right there.

So close, I hear the shaky exhale rattle in his throat. A hard knot forms in the pit of my stomach, and I close my eyes and listen to his breathing.

He finally breaks the silence.

“Allison.”

My name, leaving his throat⁠—

rough, cracked, worn out,

the Jersey edge emptied.

I hate what it does to me,

how it controls my lungs,

shreds my own breath.

“You disappear for nine days,” he says,

voice strained, teetering on the edge.

“Nine fuckin’ days, Allison.”

I keep my eyes on the pool.

“Fuckin’ look at me,” he begs.

“Look at me, please.”

My eyes snap to his, and it's agonizing.

He’s still in his bar clothes⁠—

black button-up, dark jeans, his jacket.

I always forget how beautiful he is

until he’s standing in front of me again.

Even like this—eyes wet and burning,

skin blotched red from the winter cold,

his jaw locked tight to hold back the tremor in his mouth. “This is what it feels like?” he asks, eyes watering. “Losing each other?”

“Andrew—”

“No, Allison. Don’t ever fuckin’ do this again,” his voice breaks. “I never want us to feel like this again.”

My eyes slide back to the pool.