“It isn’t that. Well, I guess it is, but not because of you. It’s because ofeverything.”
He chuckles softly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
I run my hand down my face. “I’m really messing this up, aren’t I?”
“You’re not messing up anything, Myra Jean. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I can do this.
If that’s true, why do I feel like I’m going to be sick?
“Okay.” My heart performs an erratic tap dance against my chest while my stomach contorts itself into a pretzel. “Ron, I like you. A lot. And that’s terrifying to me because I thought Henry and I would be riding our electric scooters around the grocery store together when we were ninety, lamenting about the price of eggs. I never considered the possibility of anything different.I wasn’t supposed to have this much of a future left without him in it.”
“I get that, Myra Jean. I do,” he says, “and no matter where this thing between us goes, I’d never expect to replace Henry. Nor would I want to.”
“I know,” I assure him. “The thing you have to understand is that I spent the last five years trying to keep him alive.Thatwas my life until you came along and showed me there might be other ways to live. But I’m still wrapping my mind around what that looks like and what Iwantit to look like. What happened with Oliver the other night scared Lindsey, but it also shook me up. It reminded me how quickly things can change, and if I’m going to be brave enough to let someone in my life, I’ve got to make sure I’m brave enough to lose them too.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
“How can I help you not be scared?” he asks. “What do you need from me?”
“Time,” I say. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
He pauses so long, I have to look to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.
“Okay,” he says.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Right.”
“Take all the time you need,” he continues. “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Wow,” I say with a nervous laugh. “So, it’s just that simple?”
“Nothing about you is simple,” he says, and I detect a trace of sadness in his voice. “And if you ask me, that’s one of your best qualities.”
“Thank you.” I hold the phone closer, as though somehow that would bringhimcloser.
“Good night, Myra Jean. And if I don’t talk to you before then, Merry Christmas.”
I swallow hard. “Merry Christmas.”
31
LINDSEY
Determined notto let me mope alone, the girls insist on having a pre-holiday sleepover on Christmas Eve Eve at Lucy and Willow’s to cheer me up. Kayla and Ellie arrive just after I do with a smorgasbord of goodies in an effort to cheer me up, including tacos from the little food truck that comes to town a couple times a week, which I pick at, despite how delicious they are.
“I got you some Hot Tamales,” Willow says, handing me the colorful box of candy as she takes a seat beside me on the couch. “I know they’re your favorite.”
I give her a weak smile. “Thanks, Wil.”
“Lucy told me you got some good news today,” she says. “I know you’ll be glad to be back in your house again.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I say. “It’ll be nice.” I’ve been in such a funk that I couldn’t even muster a speck of excitement when the insurance adjuster called with the news that I’m clear to move home at the end of January. In a few short weeks, I’ll be on my own again. A couple months ago, that might’ve made me happy, but now all it does is remind me of how alone I am.
