Page 78 of Smoke and Glitter

"They're going to wait for me to screw up."

"Will you?"

"Absolutely."

Summer laughs.

"I just need to keep it below international-incident level."

"Very achievable."

"I think I can do it."

"I think you can too."

It doesn't feel like reassurance. Summer says it the same way she'd tell me the coffee is hot or Colt owns too many spreadsheets.

I believe her.

We spend the rest of the morning talking about London and the baby, the office and the nursery, all the pieces of our lives that are changing whether either of us feels ready for them or not.

Neither of us knows what things will look like a few months from now.

For once, I don't need to.

Later that afternoon, I'm clearing out the ceramic dish by the door when the spare key to Sam's apartment ends up in my palm. I can't remember when carrying it stopped feeling like a big deal.

I stand there looking at it.

Returning it makes sense. I'm leaving tomorrow, and I still have a charger beside his bed, shampoo in his shower and at least one pair of socks under his coffee table.

My eyes move to my coat.

Vibes won't be busy yet. I could be there in twenty minutes.

I'm halfway into one sleeve before I stop.

"What the fuck am I doing?"

I want to see him.

The key just gives me an excuse respectable enough to pretend that's not why I'm going.

I could walk into Vibes and put it in his hand. Ask for my things. Maybe he'd come around the bar when he saw me. Maybe he'd ask me to stay for a minute.

Maybe he'd finally say something worth hearing.

I'm already imagining his face when I pull my arm out of the coat.

I went back once.

I stood in his apartment after hearing him tell Bex we weren't serious and asked him to tell me I was wrong. I'm not going back because I found a key in a bowl.

I still want him to come here. That's the irritating part. I want the knock. I want to open the door and find him standing in my hallway because he finally figured out that knowing where I am isn't the same thing as coming to me. I want him to tell me he's sorry. I want him to tell me to go to London. And I want him to give me something to come back to.

The hallway stays quiet. I look down at the key, then put it back in the dish.

The charger can stay. The shampoo can stay. I'm not walking into Vibes to clean myself out of his apartment so he can wake up after I'm gone in a version of his life where I was never there.