Page 114 of All The Ways to Miss You

“It’s a pretzel-stick penis,” she says with a smirk.

“Classy with a k, Aggs.” I pluck out the pretzel stick and toss it across the room. “That’s what I think of penises right now.”

“Viva la lady balls!” She does the same and then lifts her castrated drink for a toast.

I toast her back and take a sip through the snowflake straw, making a point to compliment her, even though it tastes awful. The second one is better, and by the third, now Slutty Snowwoman, I’m smiling and giggling with her about her recent love adventures with Paul.

“Thank you,” I tell her as we stand at the window, watching the falling snow.

“For what?”

“You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been a better friend to you. I don’t deserve you, Aggs.”

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a room in your new house.”

“My house.” I grimace. With my fingertip, I draw the outline of a box into the foggy condensation on the window. I add a roof, a chimney, and a front door. But when I’m done, I wipe it all away with my hand.

Any chance of a commission is on hold, maybe indefinitely if I never return to G&W. This saddens me. I love my job, I love Chicago, and I don’t want to be anywhere else. At least this one truth rings clear in my mind. I belong here. This is my home.

“Linden says Lakeman’s still in play. It may work out, but not as fast as you’d like,” she says.

“Maybe I should visit Linden.” Not only do I need to figure out where I stand with him, but I need to pay my bills.

“See, clarity comes with drinking.”

“But mostly stupidity.”

We return to the couch. The books remain untouched on the coffee table. I stare at them before building enough nerve to ask Aggie a question that’s been bugging me all night.

“Will you tell me one more good thing about Evan and me . . . from before?”

“You sure?” She sets her glass down.

I nod, unable to make eye contact.

She tucks her legs under her and faces me, appearing excited. “You’re the only person he’s ever been with.”

My heart double-thumps before my gaze swings to her. “But he told me . . .”

Aggie’s already shaking her head. “The. Only. From what he’s admitted, he’s tried to forget you without much success. I think he’s been subconsciously waiting for you.”

I am the other girl. The only other person he’s touched. It was always me.

“It’s very romantic,” she says.

“How’s that romantic?” I tug at my lip with my teeth.

“Because you moved here and fell for him all over again. It’s like destiny gave you a second chance to pick up where you left off.”

I trace the starburst pattern on the sofa cushion, unsure of her assessment.

Without knowing, did I return to Chicago because of him? Did some part of me remember Evan? My heart thumps again, but I ignore it. I need to give in and talk with Evan, despite everything. I’m not saying I can forgive him, but how can I move forward without answers?

After Aggie goes to bed, I take one book and place it on my lap. I suck in a deep breath before I flip open the cover. Settling a hand on the drawing on the first page, I try to remember what I felt when I originally drew it. The memory from after rushes back.

At that time, I had no frame of reference for why I drew what I did. Sometimes I would press my pencil to paper, allowing the lines to lead me wherever they wanted. Sharp angles and soft curves dictated the final image.

But looking at them now with fresh eyes, everything has become clearer. From the beginning of the first book to the very last page of the third, I’ve drawn out what I suspect is the history of my relationship with Evan. This is why he gave these to me. He wants to prove we were real, and some part of me always knew it.