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His right brow lifts. “Are you? Really? Because you don’t look fine to me. You look tired and sad. And lonely.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “Welcome to my world.”
My tone is decidedly sarcastic and he visibly tenses at my words, taking a small step back and pulling his arms across his chest. “I’m worried, okay? I haven’t heard from you since the night you told me about Charlotte.”
“Haven’t heard from you either.”
Jesus….could we sound anymore like two cat-fighting teenagers?
Merrick shrugs. “I was giving you time. I figured…well….I assumed you’d be embarrassed.” He’s quick to rush forward and state, “Though you have no reason to be.”
“Sure.” Just talking about all this agitates me. I’ve never been the type of man to share my emotions or deep thoughts on a particular subject. According to Chantal, I’m one-dimensional. I never really believed that until this moment when Merrick stands in front of me trying to piece back together our friendship, and all I can do is protest.
He sighs, shaking his head as if he’s had enough. “The gang is coming over to celebrate the 4thof July. You’re welcome to join us.”
I’m shocked by his invitation, especially given how quickly this conversation has gone down the crapper. But he’s offering an olive branch, and something in me refuses to ignore it. Regardless of the path of this friendship—or lack of friendship—I do appreciate the fact that he wants to include me. I like his friends. They are nothing like the few friends of Chantal’s that I’ve been forced to schmooze with throughout the years: stuck-up, impressed with themselves, fake as the day is long.
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“Come over anytime. Bring some beer if you feel like it.”
The holiday is still a few weeks away, which leaves me wondering if he’s planning on keeping his distance until then. I can’t blame the guy. I’m a pain in the ass on a good day, and that was before he watched me have a complete and total meltdown. Could be he just feels sorry for me, especially since he knows how fucked up my home life is, and that’s why he issued the invitation.
Stop the fucking overthinking.
“Will do.”
Merrick turns to walk away, takes three steps before he comes to a halt. The words he speaks are whispered, barely audible, but in them I hear exactly what I heard that night: care and concern. “I’ve missed you.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. In fact, I’d guess he’s almost afraid at what he might hear, he’s moving so quickly to his front door. I’m left standing on the sidewalk, watching him walk away, left only with those three little words and a mountain of confusion that he leaves behind.
“I’ve missed you too,” I whisper to myself once he’s gone.
