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Chapter Three
Abel
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“Ican’t get over howtan you are.” Claire smiles at me from across the table.
“I spent a lot of time on the beach.” I shrug, fiddling with the straw wrapper in front of me.
“You look good.”
“You just saw me a week ago,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but that was Facetime. Seeing you here, in person, after nearly three years. I don’t know, you just seem better.”
I resist the urge to tell her that getting out of bed every day feels like a chore. Or that since I arrived in Chicago three days ago, I’ve felt this overwhelming weight pressing down on my chest that makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Instead, I smile and nod. I know that if anyone understands my pain, it’s Claire. Finley was her sister after all. Maybe in a way I feel like I’m protecting her by making her believe that I’m okay. I’m not even sure I know what okay looks like anymore.
While we’ve talked nearly every week since I left three years ago, recently most of our conversations have been pretty light. In the beginning, we talked about Finley a lot, but after a while there wasn’t much to say that we hadn’t already said.
“How are you? Still seeing that guy from work?”
“Hell no.” She crinkles her nose.
“What happened? I thought you really liked him.”
“So did I. That was until I caught him making out with Bethany in the break room.”
“In the break room?” I arch a brow.
“Oh yeah. I’m not sure if the soda machine has ever seen such action before.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad I found out what a slime ball he was before things went too far.” She forces a smile. “What about you? You seeing anyone?”
“You already know the answer to that. You ask me every time we talk.”
“Maybe now that you’re home you can open yourself up to the possibility of an actual relationship.”
“I’m not interested in a relationship.”
“Just emotionless fucking then?”
I choke out a laugh at her bluntness. “There’s something to be said for emotionless sex.”
“I beg to differ. What is sex without emotion? It’s empty and meaningless.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Abel,” she starts but I quickly cut her off.
“I’m not ready.” I don’t leave any room for argument with my tone.
“It’s been three years. Don’t you think...”
“I said I’m not ready, Claire,” I grind out. She falls silent, blowing out a slow breath. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head.
“Don’t be.” She holds her hand up to stop me. “I shouldn’t push.” She pauses before changing the subject. “I talked to your mom the other day. She seems to be doing well. Still cancer free.”
