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I ditch the booze. Pour a glass of water instead. Drink with greedy sips.
She knocks.
Almost an hour exactly. No traffic on Sunday nights. An easy drive up the 405. Plenty of time to think about how she wants to break this to me.
I take a deep breath and I answer. "Hey."
"Hey." Her voice is soft.
I'm not supposed to know why she's here. But I can still read her, tell something is wrong.
Nobody textswe need to talkif they're expecting an easy hang.
"You okay?" I lead her inside.
She closes the door behind her. "Long dinner, you know?"
I nod.
"Do you see your family often?"
"Not as much as I used to," I say.
She shifts her weight between her legs.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Water. Thanks."
"Sure." I pour her a glass, refill mine, lead her to the couch.
She sits on the other side of the cushions. There's distance between us. A new distance.
She's preparing to do this, to do the right thing.
Of course she is. I know her. As Hearts and Thorns, sure, but I know her.
She follows the wisdom of her tattoo to a T.
Truth is my light.
She's always fighting for honesty, fighting to do the right thing.
But then—
She keeps this to herself too. She doesn't explain the details exactly, but she admits she hasn't shared her history far and wide.
She holds it close, keeps it safe.
"I don't really know how to say this." She takes a long sip and sets her water on the coffee table. "With my ex, it was… I thought I made things clear, but I didn't."
"What things?"
"I thought so much on the way here," she says. "I went through so many possibilities. My sister, she accused me of being a coward, and I think maybe she's right. Because I'm terrified of what this means."
"Slow down."
"I like you." She turns to me. "A lot."
