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“Eleventy-three.”
“Niiiice.”
I bite my lip, preventing the grin from forming. “We’re such pigs.”
“True. But I know you, Josh. She’s not just hot. That’s not why you’re calling me at two in the morning. So?”
I cover my eyes with my forearm and sigh heavily. “She asked about Natalie.”
“What about Natalie?”
“She asked if I still loved her.”
“You told her the truth, didn’t you?”
I clear my throat. “I didn’t have to.”
“You know, I was thinking about you the other day.”
“Yeah? Was I naked?”
“Shut up, asshole.”
“Continue.”
“Natalie—she’s kind of like your version of cancer.”
With a chuckle, I say, “Wow. We’ve called her a lot of things before but never a terminal disease.”
“No. Hear me out. It made sense when I was thinking about it… maybe not so much now.” I wait a moment, knowing he’s gathering his thoughts into words. “So, before I met Chloe, she’d been afraid to get close to people because of the cancer. It was always in the back of her mind, you know? Forming a relationship and then having to end it… I mean, I get it, but I wouldn’t accept it. She pushed and pushed me away until she finally realized I wasn’t going anywhere.” He blows out a breath and continues, “Natalie—she’s kind of your cancer. She’s the thought that plagues your mind—that haunts you—so much so it makes it hard for you to move forward, to build relationships, to fall in love. And one day your cancer might appear, just like it did with Chloe. But it shouldn’t stop you from building the life you want. There are some things you have no control over, and some things you can take control of. How you deal with the Natalie issue is your choice.”
I let his words sink in, and I think about Chloe and how little my problems seem compared to hers. “I’m sorry. About Chloe and the cancer.”
“I’m sorry too,” he says. “About Natalie. You shouldn’t be sorry about Chloe, though.”
“Were you scared when you found out?”
“Yeah. Just like one day, whoever you’re with will be scared that Natalie might one day show up in your life. But if the girl loves you half as much as I love Chloe, she’ll stick around. And she’ll regret it if she doesn’t. You and Tommy—you’re worth sticking around for.”
I laugh to hide my true emotions. “You’re such a little bitch, Hunter.”
But Hunter will know I’m faking it because he knows me better than anyone. Still, he laughs. “And you, dear Joshua, need to get laid.”
“Why the hell do you think I’m calling you at two in the morning?”
“Because you woke up from a dream about me naked? That’s cool.”
“Good chat.”
“Nice talk.”
“Later, Hunter.”
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“All bullshit aside, I meant what I said. Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t settle. The world owes you and Tommy. You’ll get it one day. You’ll have it all.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Tell C-Lo I love her.”
“Will do.”
“Go back to your wife.”
“Go back to your rub and tug.”
I hang up and stare at my phone. Then I shoot out of bed, forgetting the time and everything else that’s important. I draw open the curtains and look at Becca’s window. Then I dial her number.
“Hello?” she squeaks.
“Can you look out your window?”
“What time is it?” she whispers.
“It’s late. And I’m sorry. I just really want to see you.”
The instant her curtains separate and I can see her clearly, I can’t help but smile.
She has one eye barely open and her face is scrunched. But damn, she’s beautiful. “What’s up?” she says, her voice scratchy and her eyes unfocused.
I tap on my window and her eyes dart to mine right before they widen in surprise.
“Hey…”
“I get scared,” I tell her truthfully, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.
Her eyebrows pinch and she looks so damn cute that I have to turn away because if I keep looking at her I’ll lose the courage to tell her everything. “I’m sorry that I hesitated when you asked about Natalie. It’s not easy for me to talk about my feelings about her. I hate her but I can’t. I feel like I shouldn’t love her, but I look at Tommy and I see her in him and she gave me that, you know? So I can’t love her. I can’t hate her. She just is. But when it comes to you and me and whatever we might be—she doesn’t matter. Or at least she shouldn’t.” I scratch my head in irritation because I’m rambling but I can’t stop. “And I’m sorry because I feel like I’m saying all the wrong things at the worst possible times. I mean, yeah, I’ve always kind of imagined having that conversation we had with someone far, far into my future. I didn’t expect to find someone who I had to explain that to so early on and I’m not even sure I’m prepared for it at all. So just kick my ass if I do something wrong. Because I’ll change, or I’ll try. I guess what I’m asking you—begging you—is to please, please be patient with me. Because I really don’t want to let go of this. And you—I don’t want to let go of you.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Of us.”
