Текст книги "When the Stars Align"

Автор книги: Jeanette Grey

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“Listen,” he said, gaze intense, voice fervent. “I like you. So much. I like your fire and how smart you are and all the things I see beneath that—that shell you put up. And I promise you”—his fingers tightened against her skin—“I have never, ever had a problem remembering you were a woman.”

It set a blaze off in the pit of her abdomen. Between her legs and in the heart of her sex.

“I like you, too.” The words came out quiet and weak, and she hated feeling that way. But it was what he had left her with.

“And if we ever kiss—when,” he revised, “when we kiss, it’s going to be when I can give you everything. Because that’s what you deserve.”

Her stomach twisted. “And you can’t give me that right now.”

She hadn’t forgotten. He had never pretended to be unattached, and she’d kept the reality of it firmly in mind. Right up until now.

She cursed herself inside her head. Just this afternoon, she’d sworn she wouldn’t be the other woman, and then he’d touched her and made everything confused. She’d kissed him, knowing exactly what was going on but choosing to ignore it.

Weak. Stupid.

He must have seen her shutting down. “One week, Jo. Not even.”

How many times did she have to wait for someone to feel for her what she felt for them?

“You can’t exactly promise me anything.”

With a weak, lopsided smile, he drew her hand up to his chest. He placed it at the very center of his ribs. “I can promise to get my life straightened out.”

That was all she’d wanted a couple of minutes ago. Whichever side of the line they came down on, it’d be better than this. This uncertainty—this balancing act.

“Give me a week,” he insisted, pressing her palm to the warm muscle beneath his shirt. “And when I come back to you, I’ll give you the answer you deserve. Can you wait one week?”

“A week you’re going to spend with her.” The silent third in this strange, phantom triangle of theirs.

“Yup. Because she deserves better than this, too. Let me deal with everything, and then I’m going to come back to you.”

“With either a no or a yes.”

It would be the worst kind of waiting, not even certain what she was waiting for.

“Hey,” he said. “What we started here. It isn’t over. Please. Don’t shut down on me. Just give me the time to do it right.”

A part of her, the one that usually won, was screaming at her to walk away. To tell him no. But that was the part of her that always made it so she ended up alone.

“I can’t promise you anything, either.” But she took a step closer.

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not,” she agreed.

“I’ll take it.”

He moved so slowly, transcribing his actions so there wasn’t any chance she could misinterpret or overreact. Beneath her skin, she was still a roiling mess of conflicting impulses, a wounded thing looking to hurt whatever threatened to leave her bleeding.

An untouched heart, finally getting the chance to beat.

She let him fold her into his arms. Resting her head against his chest, she soaked in the solidity of him and closed her eyes.

What he was asking of her was nothing. It was everything. But as best she could, she’d give it to him.

A week was hardly any time at all.

Chapter Nine

Adam’s week in Baltimore dragged on forever.

It was funny—he’d been looking forward to this for so long. He’d thought the instant he set foot on solid, American soil again it’d be like coming home. The signs weren’t all in Spanish, and the buildings were brick and stone. The hotel was a perfect seventy-one degrees. But it didn’t matter.

His first few days in Puerto Rico, he’d kept seeing things and wanting to tell someone about them. Shannon, maybe, if he’d thought she would appreciate them. Now he was looking at poster presentations about the Large Hadron Collider and neutrinos, sitting in on lectures about the cosmic microwave background, and he knew exactly who would want to hear about them.

Jo. Jo, who was so damn dedicated to her work.

Jo, who’d looked at him like he was breaking her heart.

Alone in his room, he touched the corner of his lips. She’d pressed her mouth right there, and it had sent a fire roaring up his spine, making his whole body come to life. He’d wanted to reach out and pull her in, or let her back him up against the fence and show him just how hot a night in the tropics could be. He’d wanted her to touch him.

Instead, he’d frozen up. He’d said no. Or at least not yet.

And now, a thousand miles away from her, he couldn’t stop thinking about that almost-kiss.

While standing beside his poster presentation in the middle of the conference, answering questions about the research he’d done that year. While having a beer with his advisor between sessions.

While waiting for Shannon to arrive—for the two of them to figure out what they meant to each other after all.

He fought to convince himself he’d made the right decision.

And he hoped he hadn’t missed his only chance.

“What are you doing here?”

Setting her things down, Jo blinked blearily at Heather. Out of the corner of her eye, she snuck a glance at the clock. Just after ten a.m., so well past the time Jo usually came in. “Um. Work?” Obviously.

It’d been three days since Adam had taken off; work was pretty much the only thing keeping Jo sane.

But Heather wasn’t letting it go. “When did your observation window end again?”

“Four.” It’d been almost five by the time she’d collapsed into her bed.

Her second session operating the telescope. Just like the previous time, Heather had stayed for part of it, but instead of retreating to her office once Jo’d had things in hand, she’d packed up her stuff and gone home to bed.

The trust had been staggering, but after a couple of hours, the loneliness had been, too.

Jo had tried so damn hard, but every few minutes, she’d caught herself glancing over at the other seat, some part of her subconsciously expecting Adam to be there. A quiet presence by her side, a warm voice. A gentle brush of fingers against her skin.

She was so stupid.

Heather clucked her tongue. “I didn’t think I had to tell you this, but it’s okay to come in late after that kind of night.”

She hadn’t been able to sleep, so what would’ve been the point? With a shrug, she clutched her bucket of coffee to her chest and sank into her chair. Heather shook her head with a sigh. That seemed like as much of a conversation ender as any, so Jo turned to her desk, stifling a yawn and bringing her monitor to life.

By the middle of the afternoon, she could barely keep her eyes open. Fatigue and frustration made her temples pound, and the silence in the office only made it worse. Adam had never really visited her in her office, but apparently, she looked for him everywhere now; apparently she missed him even in the pieces of her life he hadn’t occupied.

She hadn’t realized how little she spoke to anybody else here until her one point of connection was gone.

Finally, Heather went for a coffee break, and Jo gave up and thunked her head against her desk. She rested there, brow pressed to the cool wood, cursing herself and the shitty situation she’d gotten herself into.

Of course she was still hunched over like that a minute later when someone knocked on the door. She groaned and sat up straight.

From the doorway, Carol flashed her an uncertain smile. “Is this a bad time?”

Was there any such thing as a good time? Jo waved at her to go ahead.

“Roberto agreed to give a few of us a ride to town to grab some groceries. Anything you need us to pick up?” Carol hesitated. “Or do you maybe want to go, too?”

Pushing her hair out of her face, Jo considered it. God knew she wasn’t getting anything useful done here, and Heather didn’t seem like she would mind. She was running low on snacks.

And it’d be a chance, paltry as it was, to talk to real live people and get out of her own damn head for a while.

She sucked her lip ring between her teeth. “Who’s going?”

“Me.” Carol ticked the names off on her fingers. “Kim, I think. And if she’s going, you know Jared will, too.”

Ugh. The two of them were more than she really wanted to deal with. Still…

“Yeah. I could go. If there’s room.”

Carol’s face did a terrible job at hiding her surprise. “Really?”

“Everybody needs food.” She shrugged off her annoyance at the question and put her computer to sleep.

When Carol smiled in reply, it looked genuine. “Cool.”

Jo left a note for Heather before slinging her bag over her shoulder and following Carol to the parking lot, where the rest of the crew was already assembled. Roberto and Jared and Kim didn’t do any better of a job at pretending not to be shocked than Carol had, but Jo ignored them as she got into the van. She left the backseat for the couple and the front seat open for Carol so she could be a normal, friendly person and carry on whatever small talk she wanted to with Roberto. As they lurched forward, she rolled down her window and let the breeze blow through her hair.

Leave it to her to go on a social outing and instinctively find a way to make it as isolating as possible.

The instant they arrived, Jo spilled out onto the pavement and left the others behind as she headed for the store. She cast one glance over her shoulder to find Jared dipping Kim, giving her a big sloppy kiss, and something inside Jo twisted.

She shook it off as the automatic doors parted, cool air beckoning her within. She grabbed a basket and set about wandering the aisles. At the register, the checkout girl took one look at Jo and angled the display her way so Jo could see the total, not bothering to rattle the numbers off. Jo peeled the bills from her money clip and handed them over, nodding and offering a clipped, “Gracias,” before taking her bags in hand.

She stepped outside to find the van gone.

Her chest went tight, panic and indignation both squeezing her lungs. For a second, they swamped her. Then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Gave herself a good solid mental slap in the face.

It wasn’t any big deal. Roberto had probably only agreed to give them a ride because he’d needed to run some errands himself. If she’d stuck around, she would’ve been privy to the plan. She just needed to sit herself down and wait. They’d come for her. They wouldn’t have forgotten her or left her behind.

And yet, as she lowered herself to the curb, she couldn’t help it. A tiny part of her was ten years old again, sitting on a stoop outside the school, promising her teacher that her dad would be by to pick her up soon. Lying. Resigning herself to figuring out the bus routes and counting her change in her mind.

The buses didn’t run all the way to the observatory. A cab would be expensive, but she had the money. If she was really stranded, she’d be all right.

She was always fine.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

Jo startled, whipping around. Kim stood over her, holding a shopping bag of her own, one eyebrow raised. Jo clenched her hands into fists, trying to calm the way her heart was jackhammering around behind her ribs. She knew better than to let go of her surroundings like that—to get so caught up in her own mind that someone could sneak up on her.

She was off her game. Way, way off.

Her fingers shook a little as she combed them through her hair. “Am I supposed to look happy? It’s a million degrees out here.”

“You could’ve waited inside.” Kim shrugged and plunked down beside her. She nudged Jo with her elbow, and Jo stiffened, quashing the instinct to defend her space, to keep anyone from intruding into it. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Jo shook her head and scooted an inch to the side. “They cost a lot more than that.”

Squaring Jo with an appraising look, Kim smirked. “Then let me guess. You were thinking about Adam.” She said it with a teasing lilt to her voice, and Jo bristled.

“Hardly.” Forget that it’d been one of the first times all day she hadn’t been.

“If you say so. Not sure why you’re denying it, though.”

“Nothing to deny.”

“Uh-huh.” Kim dragged her purse into her lap and dug around until she came up with her phone and a tube of lip gloss. Watching her reflection in the blank screen, she swiped the color across her lips, then smacked them together. “The program’s almost half over. If you two don’t stop dancing around each other soon, there’s not going to be much point.”

And it wasn’t as if Jo hadn’t known that. The calendar she kept beside her monitor at work made it abundantly clear how quickly the summer was slipping past. She’d kept it in mind every time she thought about her progress on her research. But she hadn’t considered it in that context before.

By the time Adam returned, their time together really would be half over. Maybe that was for the best. If he and his girlfriend sorted their shit out, Jo would only have his happiness shoved in her face for another five weeks.

But if they didn’t… if he came back and he still wanted her…

She dug her nail into the pad of her finger. Adam himself had said it, and she’d laughed at him when he had. But all the same, Jo found the words slipping out. “It’s complicated.”

Kim snickered. “It sure as hell doesn’t have to be.” She capped her lip gloss and dropped it in her purse, teasing at her bangs before stashing her phone. “I mean, we’re only here for a little while. Might as well make the most of it, right?”

“Is that what you and Jared are doing?”

Kim grinned. “You’d better believe it. Boy drives me crazy, but he’s a monster between the sheets. Or up against the wall, or—”

“I get it,” Jo cut her off.

Jo wasn’t any stranger to taking a man to bed and getting what she wanted from him. What she usually wanted was an orgasm or two, and once she’d had it, she was good to go. It was the contact and the release she needed to return to her work with a clear head.

Adam, though… He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be into that. The way he acted about that girl of his it was evidence enough. He was serious about just about everything, and doubly so about the women in his life. He’d been serious when he’d grabbed Jo by the shoulders and refused to let her walk away. When he’d refused to kiss her.

Until he could give her everything.

“And you’re okay with that?” Jo heard herself ask. “Knowing it’s only temporary?”

If Adam did come back to her, he’d do it with the same intensity he’d brought to dragging her out of the water and holding her tight, to clasping her hand and to their not-quite-kiss. She’d never wanted more than sex from anyone, but the idea of keeping it casual, keeping it short-term with him made her head hurt.

Kim cast her gaze skyward. “Jared’s not the kind of guy you fall in love with. Having a time limit is for the best.”

If only things with Adam were so simple.

Before Jo could even begin to figure out the mess of feelings tangled up in her head, the rumble of an engine saved her. Sure enough, it was Roberto and the van. Happy to end the conversation, she rose, taking her packages with her and going for the door. She climbed her way into her solitary seat.

And in the silence and the heat, she waited.

Chapter Ten

Adam’s hotel room was spotless. He circled it one last time, peeking under the huge, king-sized bed that had seemed like such a good idea when he’d booked it, making sure there weren’t any socks or pairs of underwear lurking underneath. His things were all put away in drawers, his suitcase in the closet, his toothbrush and razor and comb lined up in a neat little row beside the sink.

The last session of the conference had ended a couple of hours ago. He’d had a quick dinner with his advisor, then come here to make sure everything was ready. Shannon would be here any minute.

With a restlessness in his hands, he checked his phone, but it was silent.

Lacking anything better to do, he gave himself a once-over in the mirror and winced at his appearance. Not for the last time, he second-guessed his decision to stay in conference attire. Shannon had always liked him dressed up, though, and his khakis were neatly pressed. The blue button-down shirt brought out his eyes, and his tie was the one she’d bought for him last Christmas. The part in his hair was so maniacally straight, it looked like he’d combed his hair with a ruler.

He looked like an idiot. Stiff and uncomfortable. He felt even worse.

That first week at the observatory, when everyone had gotten together to make dinner at the girls’ house, Jo had called him out on everything he was doing wrong with regards to Shannon. She’d told him it never paid off to wait for someone to care about you, and every word of it had hurt. It had hurt because it was true.

What would she think of him now?

“Fuck it,” he muttered. He turned on the tap and wet his hands, then raked them through his hair, messing up the style a bit. Making it look more like it did most days on the island. Better.

The tie went next. He opened the top two buttons of his shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, he traded out the khakis for the one nice pair of jeans he’d brought.

Much better. Less nervous first date material and more… him.

He coiled up his discarded tie and folded his pants and put them both away. He took another lap of the room and wrung his hands. Maybe he should’ve stayed in his nerdy professor clothes. Or—it was kind of hot out. Shorts and a T-shirt wouldn’t be inappropriate.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Shaking his head at himself, he turned on his heel. He patted his pockets for his wallet and phone and headed for the door. Shannon had said she’d just come up to his room, but there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t head to the lobby to meet her. On the elevator ride down, he tapped out a message letting her know he’d meet her there.

He stepped through the doors, thumb hovering over the button to send as he scanned the space. It was mostly stuffy sciencey types, people lingering even though the conference was over. A few more glamorous people presumably heading out for a night on the town. He scanned red leather couches and the length of the marble floor, the big glass bank of windows, and the revolving door.

Then he stopped. Looked closer.

Her hair was red.

Three years he and Shannon had been friends, or a couple, or something in between. Through all of it, she’d had the same blond fall of hair trailing halfway down her back. He’d loved to run his hands through it, loved the way it glowed in the early morning light. She’d known how much he’d loved it.

The floor beneath him tilted for a second. When it settled, the world looked different.

She’d changed something so basic about herself. She’d changed, period. And suddenly, he was pretty sure he had, too.

He was still working to process it when her expression shifted, and she waved, clearly spotting him across the room. He smiled, a wary, fragile thing, as he paused to delete the message he hadn’t bothered to send and didn’t need to now. And then he moved, closing the distance just as she was doing the same.

With the shock of her hair percolating in the background, he took in the rest of the details of her appearance. Her makeup was light, so that much at least was the same. He recognized the little white shrug she wore across her shoulders, but the sundress underneath it was new. She had a bag slung over her shoulder in addition to her purse, but it wasn’t terribly big. She was probably only staying one night, then.

And that was… okay. Really, truly, honestly okay.

They came to a stop with a couple of feet still separating them, like there was some sort of force field holding him back. Before this summer, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Her grin was as sheepish as his felt as she tugged at the strap of her bag and shifted her weight.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi. You… I…” Jesus. “It’s so good to see you.” And with that, he got over himself, stepping forward into her space for that hug. She gave it to him willingly enough, but it was as different as all those unreturned phone calls would have—should have—led him to expect.

He pulled away after just a second, letting her go. His hand caught on her hair.

“I know,” she said, reading his mind apparently. “It was a stupid whim, but…”

“It’s nice.” He wasn’t even lying about it. “Different, but… pretty.” He regarded her again. “It suits you.”

A tension around her eyes seemed to ease. “You think?”

“Yeah. I do.” It suited this new version of her that wasn’t his, and that probably should’ve hurt more. But it didn’t. It was just a quiet little hint of an ache—a wound that, somehow, while he hadn’t been looking, had started to heal.

They gazed at each other for a long moment before he remembered himself. “Here, let me take your bag. We can stash it upstairs, and then…” He had a whole host of potential plans, but none of them felt right. Letting out a long breath, he relaxed his shoulders. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m starving.”

She held out her bag, and he accepted it, slinging it over his shoulder as he led the way to the elevator bay. “You in the mood for anything in particular? I went to a good Thai place for lunch the other day. Or there’s a sandwich place. Or—”

“Thai sounds good.”

They stepped into a waiting elevator. He hit the button for his floor and leaned into the wall as the doors slid closed. She stood opposite him, and he regarded her again, trying to peer deeper.

“What?” she asked.

Right. You could only stare in silence at a girl for so long before it got weird. He shrugged. “You look good.”

“So do you.” One side of her mouth turned up. “I didn’t know you could even get that tan.”

“Me neither.”

“There’s something else about you, too.” She regarded him as the floors dinged by. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but…” She trailed off, not finishing the thought, not telling him he’d changed. He didn’t need her to. He was pretty sure he knew the feeling.

A louder chime sounded, and the doors opened onto their floor. He got out his keycard as they walked, but at the door, he paused. A tickle of nerves firing off, he turned to her. “Don’t read anything into the room, okay?”

“Um…”

He let them in, and he felt her registering that one, big bed.

“Yeah… uh…” He set her bag down on the desk and palmed the back of his neck.

“It’s fine.”

“If it’s not, I can see if they can change it. And anyway, it’s so big, it’s not like we have to sleep on top of each other.” But hidden behind his every word was the fact that the room expected them to sleep together. In the same bed.

Her hand brushed his. “It’s fine. Really. Wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

“Well, no, but…” It would be the first time since they’d called it quits again. Since they’d spent this summer with so much distance between them, and since they’d come together again as new people.

It wouldn’t be the same. And that was okay.

“Come on.” She withdrew her hand, and he didn’t chase her touch as she retreated. “You promised me noodles.”

It was easier, sitting across a table from each other in a restaurant, their knees not touching, their hands restricted safely to their own sides. Between great gulping bites of pad thai, she told him about work and her classes and their friends and all the other hundred little things he’d been wondering about all summer long.

He laughed, shaking his head at the end of one of her stories. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“What? Why not?” She washed another forkful of her dinner down with a sip of her drink. “The student union was made to be climbed.”

“Well, sure, maybe, but—” But she wouldn’t have done it, back when he’d first met her. “I just never thought you’d be the one climbing it.”

“I guess I can still surprise you.”

“Yeah. I guess you can.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin and set her silverware down, pushing her empty plate away from her. She gestured with her head toward the door. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Sure.” He motioned for the check and paid it over the sounds of her protests, batting at her hands when she tried to grab for it. “You drove all the way down here.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you flew all the way up here! And got a hotel room. You didn’t even eat anything.”

“I had a drink.” He slipped the billfold to the waiter and stood.

She pouted all the way to the door. As they spilled out onto the street, she elbowed him in the side. “I wanted to pay my share.”

It probably took him too long to get it. When they went on dates, he insisted on paying. And this wasn’t a date. He let his expression soften as he nudged her back. “You can get breakfast.”

She gave him an assessing look. “Darn right I can.” She glanced down the street, rocking on her heels. “You want to head back, or…” She trailed off, and he considered it.

Going to the hotel meant going to that room. And that bed. His throat went tight. “It’s a nice night. We could walk around some first?”

Her sigh of relief matched his own. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

It was habit to extend his arm for her to take. She shook her head at him but slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow all the same.

Baltimore had a pretty terrible reputation, but the area around the conference hotel was nice enough. They ambled along in silence for a block or so, looking at the buildings and the nightlife before she asked, “So how about you? How’s your summer going?”

He heaved out a breath. “Good.” He corrected himself. “Better.” Because it had been terrible at first. Lonely. But then he’d worked past it and gotten to know the people around him. Found a way to make it okay.

In fits and starts, he recounted the details he’d been waiting to tell her. His housemates and his advisor and his work. When he got to the list of girls in the program, he hesitated.

And Shannon could tell. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing. Something.” He chuckled and kicked at a rock. “I don’t know.”

For a moment, she went silent. “Did you meet someone?”

He’d never imagined he would be confessing this to her. But now, when confronted with it, he couldn’t bring himself to evade. “Maybe?”

And she beamed. “Oh my God, Adam! Tell me all about her.” She squeezed his arm, practically bouncing on her toes.

He tilted his head to the side. “Isn’t this weird?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Not really. Just…” Just, this was the first girl he’d ever been in love with, the first girl he’d had sex with. The girl who, once upon a time, he thought he’d spend his life with. “It seems weird.”

“Adam. I’m happy for you.”

That twinged a little. He tugged his arm away.

“Adam?” The smile slipped off her face, and she stopped walking.

He sucked in a deep breath. “It’s fine. Really. I just…” He hadn’t exactly accepted they were over, but he’d been getting closer and closer, and tonight, when he’d seen her hair, he’d very nearly understood it. “I wasn’t expecting quite this level of enthusiasm.”

“Oh.”

“It’s…” He trailed off before he could say that it was fine again, because it wasn’t. It would be, but for the moment, it had him feeling unsteady. Like a chapter of his life was really, truly ending, and maybe it was for the best. But it didn’t make it easy.

“Come on.” She put a tentative hand on his arm and led him to a low wall where she tugged him down to sit beside her.

He put his elbows on his knees and closed his eyes. Apparently they were doing this.

“I loved you so much, Shannon. For so long.”

Her voice trembled when she said, “I loved you, too.”

“It’s over, isn’t it? For real this time.”

At least she didn’t pussyfoot around. “I think it is.”

“I mean, I knew that. I really did. But somehow it hadn’t sunk in.”

The warmth of her hand settled on his back, and he let it, accepting the comfort for what it was. “I haven’t exactly helped with that, have I?”

A snuffling laugh forced its way through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just… we’d been together so long, and I cared—I still care—about you.”

“It’s okay.” He knew how she felt.

“It’s such a cliché, but I really do want to be friends.”

Her hand had drifted up to his shoulder, and he moved to place his own palm over hers. “I cannot imagine a world where we’re not friends.”

A couple of months ago, he hadn’t been able to imagine a world where they weren’t more.

Her voice trembled. “Sometimes, I think, when two people get together when they’re as young as we were—when they stay together for so long—you either grow together or you don’t, and it’s like you don’t even notice it happening. I feel like… we don’t fit anymore. Not the way we used to.”

“We don’t,” he agreed. He’d known that for ages, but he’d thought it was okay. That if they worked at it, they could push through and find a new way to fit.

So many times they’d broken up only to end up getting together again. But this time…

This time was for real.

He turned to look at her, and her eyes shone, the glassy wetness of them glittering. “I know we always fell back into each other, but it was hard to tell if it was just because we were lonely or if we really wanted that. And it had hit the point where, sure, it was comfortable, but it was also—”

“Suffocating,” he finished for her, the word coming to him out of nowhere.

Her smile was wobbly. “Exactly.”

He never would have been able to say that before, but this summer without her, when she’d enforced the separation… it had seemed cruel at the time, her refusing to return his calls. But maybe it had been a kindness. Without her voice in his ear, he’d had to branch out. Grow up.

They’d had the chance to finish growing apart.

Sitting up straighter, he reached up to twist his fingers through a crimson curl of her hair. She shook her head and wiped at her face, making his own eyes feel mistier.

“I’m sorry I dragged it out so long,” she said.

“You were better than I was.” He’d just held on and on and on.

“But I could’ve been clearer.”

“And I could’ve listened.”

She laughed as she dug a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her nose. “It’s funny, how it feels like we grew apart. But really, sometimes, I think we’re too similar.”

She wasn’t wrong. Both afraid to upset each other, both trying for so damn long to make something work.

“Maybe.” He stood, looking away while she tidied herself up and while he got himself put together, too. When they were both more or less reassembled, he held out his hand. “But that’s why we’re going to make really, really good friends.”