Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

His father’s tone is patient. “I didn’t say that. You two actually seem great together. I happen to think she brings out the best in you.”


Aidan has no comeback for this, and from the next room, Clare can’t help smiling. There’s a short silence between them, and then, quietly, he says, “That’s true.”

“So,” Mr. Gallagher says, “what’s your plan, then? Are you two staying together?”

The answer comes swiftly, and it has a kind of force to it, a momentum that—even from the next room—is nearly enough to flatten her.

“No,” Aidan says, the word vibrating in the stillness of the house.

No pause, no hesitation, no waffling.

That’s it. Just: no.

Clare feels herself go numb as she tries to absorb this, the conversation in the next room oddly muffled by the static in her head. Already, they’ve moved on to something else—she hears Aidan say something about his flight tomorrow—and their voices are softer now, less accusatory, which is exactly what she’d hoped for.

Only she can’t listen anymore.

Instead, she crosses the darkened dining room and escapes into the foyer, where she sits down at the bottom of the stairs they’d climbed together only a short while ago, hugging her knees to her chest.

It’s her fault. It makes no sense for her to be caught off guard by this. They’d decided—she’d decided—to break up, and whatever else might have happened since then was clearly all in her head. The couch, the lake, all those big moments—none of it mattered, because of one simple fact: They’d never decided to un–break up.

She feels her eyes prick with tears, more out of humiliation than anything else. How can she have been stupid enough to let her guard down now? After she’d done such a good job convincing Aidan they should be apart, good enough to make him spit the word like a bullet: no.

She takes a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Maybe it was hearing it said out loud for the first time, or maybe it’s just that she’s tired, and sad, and the night behind her feels like a hundred nights all rolled into one. But whatever it is, she lets it sweep over her now, hunched on the staircase as the clock in the hallway chimes in low, rounded tones.

She’s not sure how long she’s been sitting there when she hears footsteps. She lifts her head to glance toward the dining room first, but then realizes they’re coming from above, and she twists to see Riley at the top of the stairs.

Her hair is mussed and tangled, and she’s wearing a pair of blue-checked pajama pants with an old Chicago Bears T-shirt. Clare opens her mouth to say something, but Riley puts a finger to her lips as she makes her way from one step to the next, expertly avoiding the creaky spots.

“Hi,” she says when she gets to the bottom, dropping down beside Clare. She rubs at her eyes and yawns. “What’s going on?”

“They’re talking,” Clare says, and she can feel her lip quiver as she does. She takes another long breath to steady herself. “Aidan and your dad.”

It’s only now that Riley seems to register that she’s upset. She tilts her head, looking at Clare with concern. “That’s a good thing,” she says with an encouraging smile, and Clare wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.

“I know,” she says, and then all at once, she can’t help it anymore: She feels her face start to crumple, and the tears arrive in a rush. “I’m really happy,” she manages to say, the words coming out in a sob, wet and muddled.

For a moment, Riley just stares at her, and Clare blinks back, neither of them quite sure what to say. And then, just like that, they both burst into laughter. Clare cups a hand over her mouth, realizing how loud they’re being, but Riley doesn’t even bother. She’s still waking up, and the whole thing—finding her brother’s girlfriend crying on the stairs in the early hours of the morning—is too much for her.