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She swallowed, making her throat bob. “I don’t like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”
“Don’t like me, my arse. We’re not idiotic college kids anymore, Immy. You don’t have to lie about how you feel to make yourself feel better.”
She crossed her arms, mirroring my position, without letting go of the neck of the wine bottle. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“All right, fine. If you want to be stubborn…”
“I’m not being stubborn.”
“I have a three-year-old. Trust me, you’re being stubborn. I could write a book on stubborn.”
She sniffed. “I’d like to go, please.”
“You can go.”
She took a step forward.
“Once you’ve put your inner bitch away and listened to me for sixty seconds.”
Her mouth opened as if she was going to argue, but she took a deep breath and closed it again, then gave me the barest hint of a nod to continue.
“You can be as stubborn as you want,” I said, moving toward her. “But you’re doing the same thing you did in college and putting up a wall. The problem is, I know you.”
She glanced away.
“If you hated spending time with me, you wouldn’t have eaten here tonight. You made that choice, Immy. You were the one who said seeing me again brought back some feelings; do you really think you’re the only one?”
Her eyes widened the smallest amount, like the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her.
“You’re not. It’s brought stuff back for me, too. It’s reminded me of things I’d forgotten in the craziness of my life in the last few years, and spending time with you is making me question a lot of things. Do I want to spend time with you because it’s comfortable and reminds me of an easier time? Do I fucking feel this way because, like you said, we never had closure? Or did I just never really get over you?”
Her lips parted, but not in a way that said she was going to argue. It was more of an, “Oh, shit,” kind of way. Like she didn’t expect me to say that.
If I was honest, I hadn’t expected it either.
The longer I thought about it, the more I thought I really wasn’t over her. That I’d never gotten over her.
That there was always something there, lingering deep down, something that would probably never go away.
I met her gaze and held it for a long moment. Her blue eyes showed a mix of emotions that clouded their brightness, and after what felt like the longest time, I took a step to the side, clearing her path to the door.
“Believe me when I say I know I have no right to ask anything of you, Immy. I just want to be friends—honestly. We’re both old enough to move on from our past.” I threw a hand in the direction of the door and took another step away from it. “Thank you for helping me tonight. Even though she’s probably going to be okay, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t get Dolly to the vet for me.”
Immy swallowed again and moved toward the door. She grabbed the handle, then paused and looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t take her for you, Mason. I took her for Maya.”
My heart jolted. “Why?”
“Because I’m not in the business of breaking a three-year-old’s heart.” She ran her gaze over my shoulders and along the bottom of my face before she met my eyes. “And she’s exactly why it doesn’t matter if either of us have feelings, Mason. You shouldn’t bring someone into her life unless you know one hundred percent those feelings are based on something right now, not something that happened six years ago.”
“You think I don’t know that? Here’s what you’re missing in that bit of logic: you are in her life.”
“We’re neighbors, Mason!” She put the bottle of wine on the side table and faced me, throwing her arms out. “That’s it. Just neighbors. Nothing more, okay?”
“All right, fine.” I held up my hands in defeat. “Just neighbors. If you really believe that, you’ll be able to walk out the door right now, content in the knowledge that you feel absolutely nothing for me beyond that.”
She lifted her chin the tiniest amount.
“Just neighbors. Just friends. Nothing more. If you can do that, then I’m glad one of us can.”
Then, she did it.
She turned around, ducking her head, and pulled the door open. She didn’t even stop to look at me or grab her wine bottle again.
She walked right out, tugging the door shut with a thud behind her.
She was gone.
She’d actually gone.
She’d walked out my fucking door, leaving me standing here like the idiot I felt I was.
I turned and leaned against the wall, pressing my elbows against the cold, hard surface and burying my hands in my hair.
