She puts the fork down. “What?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” I say, frustrated. “I don’t know anything. All I know is that I was fine. I was over him.”
She looks at me with her eyebrows going higher. “You were over him.” She picks up the way I phrased it past tense.
“I am over him,” I cover quickly, but then I put my hand on top of my head. “I thought I was.
“He’s been out of my life for the last two years.” I slap the island. “I didn’t even think about him except when it was the day of his birthday and our anniversary,” I admit for the first time ever. “But why, in just a couple of weeks, is he now consuming my thoughts all the time?” My voice goes louder and louder as I get more and more frustrated. “This whole thing is pissing me off because I’m not supposed to give a shit.”
“Maybe it’s because you didn’t get closure,” my mother suggests softly, and I tilt my head to the side. “Sending his stuff back to him with a guy who he always thought was into you isn’t closure.”
“He could have called me.” I glare at her now.
“Didn’t you change your number?” She folds her arms over her chest, mimicking me. “Bottom line, Sofia, you need to sit down and talk to him.”
“About what?” I throw up my hands. “About him being an asshole and breaking my heart? About how I waited to see if he would chase me but was let down because he was never coming after me? About how I loved him so much that every person I’ve dated since him I compare to him?” The tears escape and run down my cheeks. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to discuss it. He had his time to discuss things with me and what did he do? He sent me back my stuff.”
“Sofia, a lot has changed in two years. You are both different people.” She tries to be the voice of reason. “You owe it to yourself to talk to him. If not, you’ll be forever comparing everyone to him.” She picks the fork back up and continues to ice the cake.
My phone pings from the couch and I get up, walking over to it, not sure what to say to my mother. Taking it out of my purse, I look down seeing the text from the man who I just can’t escape all of a sudden.
Can we talk?
matthew
I walk out of the plane, ducking my head, holding on to the side rail as I take the steps down to the tarmac. The breeze runs through me as I make my way to my car, the sun in the sky slowly going down. I open the door to the back seat, throwing in my carry-on bag before I sit down in the driver’s seat. We were gone for one game on the road, so I don’t have that much I took with me. I take my phone out and power it back on, looking down to see if I got a text. The circle keeps going around and around as it finally loads up. The pings coming one after another showing me I missed four texts.
Opening up the text app, I see I have one from my mother.
Just thinking about you.
I want to laugh because I know she wants to say a lot more. I know she has a lot more questions for me, but I also know my father is holding her at bay. The second one is from my sister, Zara.
I heard the news that you escaped the ball and chain. You must feel one hundred and four point three pounds lighter. Let me know if you need to talk.
I skip the one from Christopher and go to the last text I sent her, two days ago.
It’s been two days since I sent her the text asking her to talk, and it’s been crickets. All it says is delivered. I was lying down in my hotel bed, watching I don’t even know what, when all I wanted to do was talk to her. All I wanted to do was hear her voice. I couldn’t explain it, so I pulled up the email I had saved from her in my inbox. Instead of calling her like I wanted to, I sent her the text. I placed the phone on my stomach, thinking that she would get back to me but nothing. Nothing for the last two days. I start the car and begin driving, but instead of going to my house, I drive straight to her office. I spot one car in the parking lot and park next to it.
Getting out, I see that the sun is almost gone now. I jog up the steps to the office, pulling open the door. Taking a step in, I see there is no one there. I walk into the middle of the room and look around. The same room where, two months ago, my life changed yet again. I look over at the pictures on the walls, trying to calm down the erratic beating of my heart.
What the fuck are you doing here? my head asks, and I don’t even know if I can answer. Is she even here? I have no idea. The only thing I know is this is where she goes, so I had to show up.
I hear the sound of shoes coming closer and closer when she steps out of the hallway. She looks at me, shocked. “Matthew,” she says my name in a whisper. “Are you okay?” she asks, stepping closer to me, which gives me a chance to take her in.
She’s wearing white jeans this time, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her here in jeans. She has a brown belt on, and a light beige, long-sleeved sweater with cuffs rolled at her wrists. Her hair is back and in a ponytail.
“I texted you.” That is the only thing that comes out of my mouth, and I have to be thankful it isn’t a declaration of love because, at this point, I don’t know what is going on with me. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing this whole time that I haven’t been my true self. I’ve been biting my tongue and suppressing everything so now I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb, and with just one push, everything is going to pour out of me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “I was…” She stops talking and finally looks up at me. It happens in slow motion really, or maybe it hits me like a freight train that I didn’t know was coming. It was in this room that my world got rocked not long ago, and I finally realized she was the one. That it’s always been her and I’m pretty fucking sure and I can bet my life it will always be her. “What is going on?” She puts her hands in front of herself as she wrings them together, and I know she is just as nervous as I am.
“We need to talk.” I can hear my father’s voice in my head. You have to go lightly. It’s been two years. You are both different. It’s only because of that I’m not pulling her to me and kissing the shit out of her. Just the thought has me rock hard. Looking down, I make sure my shirt is covering how I feel.
“We don’t, though.” Her tone is filled with sass. A vision of me pushing her against the wall, with my hands outstretched beside her head, while I devour her mouth, showing her how much we have to talk about fills my mind. I can literally taste the kiss on my lips.
“I owe you a dinner.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I know I should have chosen other words. I know this because all she does is glare at me, which makes me want her even more. “Can I take you out to dinner?” I ask, knowing she is going to say no. Also knowing that this time it’s different, she isn’t getting rid of me so easily. I’m not the stupid kid I was before.
“No,” she replies without even thinking twice or pretending to think about it and then letting me down.
“Please,” I say softly.
She just looks at me. “What do you want?” She asks the same question I’ve been asking myself since I let out what really happened between us. I know what the end goal is, I just don’t know how to get there.
“Just to talk to you,” I admit softly. “I just want to talk to you. I think we should talk.” My heart flies from the pit of my stomach to my throat, and I’m thinking about getting on my knees and begging her if I have to.
“Fine,” she huffs and then takes a deep inhale. “Why don’t I text you when I’m done and we can meet?”