Tears slide down his cheeks, his eyes glistening beneath his glasses.
"Hey, hey, hey," I say. "I'm not mad at you. Nobody is mad at you."
"Then why can't I see my best friend? And why didn't we go to the lake?"
I don't have a big enough broom to sweep up the mess of my broken heart. How could I have been so fucking stupid? So careless.
"Listen to me," I say. "This is my fault. Mine. Do you hear me? I'm sorry, Coop. I'm so fucking sorry. I made choices for myself that affected us both and that wasn't fair to you. I fucked up."
He takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes.
"I miss them," he says.
"I know, bud."
I just wish I knew how to make it right. Or how to build a time machine. One that could fix every bad decision I made from the moment I saw that butterfly tattoo. Including the one taunting me from the paper pharmacy bag on my passenger side floor.
But I took care of myself before Mateo. I can take care of that too.
Chapter forty-one
Mateo
One listener.
Ten listeners.
One hundred nine.
The number keeps ticking. Keeps rising.
It's been a week since I recorded my first podcast. And it's taken me the entire week to edit it. Nobody told me it'd be such a bitch. Not that I did any research aside from what equipment I needed.
Ten thousand seven.
Holy fuck.
It took me a while to figure out what to talk about, but once I did, it flowed. It was natural.
The number of listeners continues to climb.
I close my laptop and shut off my phone. Obsession or hyper-fixation? I'm not sure, but either way it's not healthy. My stomach grumbles, guess it's a good time for lunch.
Music blares from Addie's room on my way past. She's still not talking to me. A few words here and there, but I can't get her to listen. She sticks her fingers in her ears and walks away like a child.
I was hoping that my trip to Baltimore was enough space, that when I came back, she'd be herself again. If anything, it made it worse. As if seeing me reignited the fury all over again.
She's hurt, I get it. But fuck, man. I'm hurting too. I've never been in love, and now I love someone who isn't here.
If I was lonely before, I don't know what the hell this is called.
The deli ham still smells okay, so I make myself a sandwich and sit at the island. Without my phone, I'm lost in my head daydreaming of a different life. One where I let myself live and love at the same time. A life where I have my own family. Kids.
A life where perhaps I told Addie up front.
Speaking of, her footsteps patter down the stairs. Yes, patter. I take a bite of my sandwich and wait for her to ignore me. Seems to be what she does best these days. Kinda wish I had my phone now.
Addie gets a plate out of the cabinet and assembles herself a sandwich without looking at me. Then she slides onto the stool next to me and takes a bite. It's the most uncomfortable silence I've ever found myself in. But I take another bite to stop from making it worse.
