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SASHA
A light knock sounded on the apartment door before it opened. Glancing over, I smiled when I saw Melanie peering inside. “Hey there, come on in.” I gestured for her to step into the living room. I was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher.
I’d had a long few days at work because my boss was dealing with a complicated case. We’d been preparing reams of documents for the court hearing.
“I would, but I’m headed out to my daughter’s house for dinner,” Melanie replied. “Someone’s downstairs for you with a delivery.”
“Oh?”
Melanie’s eyes twinkled with her smile. “Yes.”
I put away the two plates I had just set on the counter and turned. I followed her out of my apartment and closed the door before jogging downstairs. “Enjoy dinner,” I called as she walked out the door and passed the deliveryman waiting under the porch light.
“Hello?” I said, uncertainly.
“Hi there,” he said easily. He handed over a large paper bag. “Dinner,” he explained at my look of confusion.
“I didn’t order dinner.”
He shrugged. “You’re Sasha, apartment two?” At my nod, he added, “Well, somebody ordered it for you. Enjoy.”
Bemused, I accepted the bag and fished in my pocket, abruptly realizing I didn’t have my wallet to tip him. “I’m sorry. Let me go upstairs and get my wallet.”
He shook his head, flashing a grin. “I’ve already been tipped.” With a wink and a wave, he jogged off the porch.
I walked up the stairs. I didn’t know why, but I waited until I was in my apartment to open the bag. Quinn was in her bedroom, working on homework.
Crossing into the kitchen after I kicked off my shoes, I opened it. It was then I noticed the distinctive label of the English pub where Noah had taken us for dinner, and then Quinn several times after that because she loved it so.
There was a note tucked inside. When I unfolded it, tears welled and splashed on my cheeks.
Consider this a peace offering. I miss you, and I love you. Noah
The scroll was bold and clear. A full week had passed since Melanie had encouraged me to talk to him. I hadn’t.
As bad luck would have it, I heard Quinn’s bedroom door opening. I swiped at my tears, but she appeared just as I reached for a napkin to blow my nose.
She stopped by the kitchen table, and I stared at her bright pink socks. They were her favorite kind, fuzzy and soft. The very kind of socks she loved when she was a little girl, and I still got them for her. That detail brought a fresh wave of tears. I blinked, wishing I wasn’t falling apart in front of my daughter.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Noah sent us dinner.”
Quinn peered into the bag, but she didn’t smile. Her worried eyes searched my face. “Why are you crying?”
“I miss Noah.” My honest answer slipped out before I could stop it.
Quinn sat across from me at the table, pushing her glasses up on her nose as she blinked at me solemnly. “Well, I think you should tell him.”
The wisdom of a teenager. And she was right. “I’m going to.”
“Call him now.” She stood, striding over to the counter where my phone sat by the refrigerator.
She set it on the table in front of me as she sat down again. “Text him and tell him to come over.”
“Quinn, it’s not that simple. And I don’t feel like making up with him in front of you,” I said, shaking my head slightly, amused despite the emotion clogging my throat and making my heart ache.
“I’ll go to my room and put my headphones on,” she offered so earnestly my heart twisted a little.
