No answer.
A lone camping chair sits across from a small television on an old wooden TV tray in what I think is the living room. I pause at the entrance to the kitchen and strain to hear any sign of life but get nothing. Something stinks, and I'm betting it's the dirty cups in the sink. Or maybe it's the mountain of pizza boxes and takeout containers on the kitchen counter.
"Mateo?" I yell, my heart beating against my chest. Every bad scenario I can imagine comes to the surface. Is he okay? Did he fall? Did he hurt himself? Did he hurt himself on purpose?
I call for him again, and this time I'm met with a rustling sound down the hall. I follow it, terror caught in my throat at what I might find. The door at the end of the hall swings open, and Mateo rubs his eyes as if he doesn't believe what they're seeing.
Me.
"You look like fucking shit," I say.
He raises his eyebrows but doesn't speak. His hair hangs in his face, disheveled and stringy. The beard I love so much is long and unruly, sticking out in directions I didn't know were possible.
I take a step toward him, and he turns his back to me, walking back into the room from which he came.
I follow.
"Love what you've done with the place," I tell him, gesturing to the mattress in the middle of the floor. "The pizza boxes are a nice touch."
"Why are you here, Jade?" he asks.
I cringe, assaulted by the way my name sounds on his lips. In that tone.
"Is Cooper okay?" he asks, taking a step toward me, his face pinched with worry.
"He misses you," I say. "But he's good."
Mateo swallows and takes a step back.
Everything is wrong and I don't know how to fix it. This isn't him. This isn't right. I don't recognize the man standing before me.
Did I do this?
His brow creases, and he tilts his head as if he doesn't trust what he sees.
Something tickles my face, and when I wipe my cheek, my fingers come away wet.
"I…I'm…I'm sorry," I say. "For everything. All of this. It's all my fault. I've been blaming you, but friends with benefits was my idea. You suggested, well Coop suggested and then I…and we…" I sink onto the mattress and cup my face in my hands. "I'm so sorry."
"Ja—"
"No. Stop. You wanted more. This whole fucking time. You wanted me as I am. You never once asked me to change or be less than what I am. You wanted more but settled for what I was capable of giving."
He sits next to me, the mattress sinking beneath his weight.
"You deserved more," I say. "So much more. I…I love you."
His eyes close, and when they open again, he smiles, showcasing his perfectly imperfect teeth.
"I love you, Storm Cloud," he says. "Have since the moment I met you. I've been driving in circles waiting for you to catch up."
He wraps his arms around me, and I lean into him, letting him hold me tight.
"Please tell me this mess is just a detour?" I ask.
He chuckles. "Our entire story is made of detours, babe. Detours and booby traps."
Fucking booby traps.
