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Chapter 28
There was something incredibly sinister about an unexpected knock on your front door. Every single person she knew, even her landlord, made sure to call before they came over. Most of the time they didn’t even knock, instead sending her a quick “I’m here” text once they were outside.
Aja was damned near startled out of her desk chair when a loud, pounding knock sounded against her door on a Thursday afternoon in mid-September. The first thing she did was try to remember if she’d forgotten some plans she had made. She was supposed to go out with the girls on Saturday evening, but that was the only thing set in stone for the week. Nothing was wrong with her apartment, so it shouldn’t have been building maintenance. She was anxious as she looked through her peephole. It was too foggy to make out anything other than a faded logo on a T-shirt so she had no choice but to open up to see who it was. One hand on the knob and the other on the mini-Louisville Slugger she kept by the door, she swung it open, dropping her arms to her sides when she saw who it was.
“What the fuck?”
She had convinced herself that seeing Walker Abbott in person again would be a long shot. And if it did happen, it would probably be somewhere awkward, like the Piggly Wiggly. And she’d probably be too angry to say any real words to him. She certainly hadn’t thought it would happen only two months after he left and in the doorway of her freaking apartment.
“I’m sorry to just show up like this.” His eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe he was there. “I… I didn’t even think to call.”
She didn’t feel like she had a right to call him her ex because they’d never gotten that far. But for the sake of the argument she was having with herself in her head, she found it intolerable that her ex still looked so fucking good after time away from her. He was just as tall and lean, his T-shirt still stretched perfectly over his chest, and his jeans fit him snugly in all the right places. There was a ruddiness to his cheeks, and his lips were slightly chapped. The only thing different was the beard. It was blond. Light blond, a few shades paler than the hair on his head. It wasn’t thick and rugged like a lumberjack’s, but it was full and soft-looking and surprising to see on him. She’d never even thought to imagine him with a beard—what a shame. He had a pink box in his hands, tied with a blue ribbon.
Her mouth gaped, words escaping her. Everything came rushing back at once. The pain when he’d left that night without a good-bye. That he hadn’t bothered to send so much as a text to apologize. Sadness and exhaustion and… anger.
Aja was angry at him. Mad as hell really. And she refused to be distracted by his absurd bearded face.
She slammed the door, twisting the lock closed like the action would make him disappear back to wherever he’d come from. Her forehead pressed hard against the door. For a few stretched moments, it was so silent she was afraid that her wish had actually come true.
Her hand curled around the doorknob, ready to check for herself, when he spoke.
“I deserve that.” His voice was muffled through the door, and she pressed her ear to it to hear him better. “Hell, I deserve worse. But… but I… I had to try, Aja. I had to come to you and try, to see if you could forgive me for behavin’ the way I did and hurtin’ you in the process.”
“Walker, I…” Her head rushed with thoughts, every last one moving too fast for her to convey verbally.
“Just… I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I brought you a cobbler from Minnie’s. I guess… I guess I wanted to get you a gift or somethin’. Even if you never want to talk to me again, I want you to have the cobbler.”
The only issue was that she did want to talk to him again. Very much. But she didn’t know if her anger and confusion would allow her to. Let alone her pride. He’d hurt her, and she didn’t know if she could trust him not to do it again. And if she couldn’t, what use would it be to let him in at all?
“Look, I’m goin’ to set the cobbler in front of the door, and I’ll take three steps back into the hall. I’ll give it a minute, and if you don’t open the door to get your cobbler, I’ll take it with me and leave and… and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“I’m puttin’ the box down now,” he said when she refused to make a sound. “And I’m stepping back.…”
She counted the seconds in her head, trying to use the other parts of her brain to debate if she should open the door or let him walk out of her life entirely. By the time she got to fifty-two, she’d made no real decision. At least not until she twisted the lock on the door and pulled it open to find him still standing there.
The breath he released was palpable in its relief.
“Hi,” he said slowly, almost in awe.
Her jaw tightened. Laying eyes on him again brought back the anger, the hurt. But there was something else there too. The very same love that she’d been so close to admitting months before. It hadn’t gone away, not even in the face of her suffering. The same lips that had been so callous in their good-bye had kissed hope back into her body. The same body that had run away from her had held her close, gently, like she was something precious, something to be sure and careful with. How in the hell was she supposed to reconcile one with the other?
“Hi,” she choked out, bending down to pick up the box of cobbler.
“Aja…”
“What?” she snapped.
“I don’t want to leave. I… I don’t want to give up yet.”
“What if I want you to give up? What if I already know that I want to be done with you?”
Walker hung his head, broad shoulders slumping along with it. She could practically hear his jaw grinding from across the hall. “I’ll have to respect that then… no matter how much it—”
“How much it what, Walker? How much it sucks to have to face the consequences of your actions?”
“No.” He shook his head, looking like he wanted to come to her. But his feet stayed planted. “How much it sucks to stand here, lookin’ in your eyes, seein’ how much I hurt you. I’m at your doorstep like a goddamn fool, beggin’ you for a second chance, knowin’ damn well that if you say no, it’ll be what I deserve.”
“You deserve a lot worse than that. You deserve a swift kick in the nuts.”
