Page 113 of All The Ways to Miss You

“I guess that’s not technically a lie.”

She circles the couch and places the package on my lap before collapsing into the chair opposite me.

“What’s this?” I glance down. The package sits heavy on my knees.

“A gift . . . from Evan.”

fifty-four

I place the package on the coffee table and lean as far away from it as possible. “I don’t want it,” I tell her.

Aggie sighs. “Aren’t you a little bit curious? Don’t you want answers?”

“Whose team are you on, anyway?” I wrap my arms around my knees and hold them tight.

“Look around.” She gestures to her apartment and the cheeky knickknacks. “Clearly, I’m on Team Happy.”

“You know what team I’m on,” I grumble.

“Yeah, but Team Doom-and-Gloom has already controlled years of your life. Don’t you want the other team to win someday? Isn’t that why you moved here? For a new start?”

I know I can’t ignore this issue forever, but right now I’m too angry to accept anything from Evan.

“It’s been two weeks. I understand you’re hurt, but don’t you want to know? You spent three years with Evan. You used to love him. Don’t you want know why?” Her brows pinch into a sharp V.

“Three years?” I settle my chin on my knees, and my heart pangs at learning this little bit of information. I’ve been tempted to make Aggie tell me everything, but I’m still too furious to hear Evan’s excuses.

“I’m not ready,” I say, resolute.

“Okay. No problem.” She leans forward and snags Evan’s gift.

Curious, I watch as she stands and crosses the living room and opens the window, allowing the freezing air to rush in with some errant snowflakes. The curtains billow in the breeze, and I shiver. Package in hand, she dangles it over the ledge and turns her attention to me. My eyes widen when I imagine it plummeting several stories to the ground.

“Stop!” I leap to my feet.

She halts with an impish grin and sings, “Only if you open it right now.”

“Dammit, Aggie.” I stomp my foot, but she’s not giving in. When she pretends to release it, my insides freeze. Before she can do it again, I say, “Fine.”

She tosses it back. It flies across the room in an arc, and I fumble to catch it. With it safely in my grasp, I give her the stink-eye.

“I’ll make us drinks.” She’s smiling, unaffected by my annoyance, and snaps the window shut. “I have this great new recipe called the Slutty Snowman.”

I have no clue what she’s talking about, but she leaves me, heading for the kitchen. And right now, away from me is the best place for her. She sets up a blender and gathers ice from the freezer while humming.

I sink into my seat with the package on my lap and inspect it. As I do, I bargain with myself. Even if I open it, it won’t matter what’s inside. Nothing can change what he did.

At the acknowledgment, I allow my finger to trace the edges. Beneath the tissue paper wrapping, I find hard ridges. The exploration gives me a good idea of what’s inside. As Aggie’s blender buzzes behind me, I tear away the paper to confirm my suspicion.

They’re books, except these aren’t any books. I recognize the stack of three journals as my own.

I rest them on the coffee table and consider what’s inside—drawings I haven’t looked at in a long time. I’d forgotten about them until now. How did Evan get them from my parents’ home? Why did he send them? Before I look inside, Aggie places a frozen drink in my hand.

“It’s snowing, and you make ice cream drinks?” I ask.

“Alcohol is appropriate in any situation. Don’t you think it’s cute?”

Not only has she been mothering me, she’s been trying to cheer me up. This drink is proof. Two stacked blobs of ice cream sit atop a tall glass, looking like a snowman. The drink looks back at me with chocolate-chip eyes, waving peppermint arms, and his . . . what’s that near his crotch? One M&M on either side of a . . .