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“Give him a chance to make it work. You haven’t given him a fucking chance, Virginia.”
“But—”
“You think he’s just sitting around, accepting that there’s no compromise to be found, no solution to this? Is that what you think? That he’s just given up?”
“No, but—”
“Butyou’regiving up. Your solution is to walk away?”
I wait, but she doesn’t answer. “You know, for some reason, I thought you loved him.”
“I do,” she whispers.
“Funny fucking way to show it,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you. I thought … Never mind.”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have called me. You should have called Will. What do you expect me to do?”
I can hear she’s weeping, and my anger softens. “Whydidn’tyou call him?”
“Because Will … Will makes me believe anything is possible. Even the impossible. He thinks we can be friends. See each other at work and that everything will be OK. But it won’t be for me. It won’t be enough.”
Virginia lets the silence sit between us. As Colt, I don’t have a response. I can’t have one.
She continues. “So, I hoped you’d tell him I’m sorry. And maybe once he’s done all his traveling, maybe by then, my heart will have healed itself enough to talk to him. But right now, I just can’t. I can’t.”
“I am sorry you’re hurting, Virginia. Truly, I am. But I’m not telling him.”
I hear a raspy intake of breath.
“And Virginia. In case you forgot, tomorrow’s his birthday. I know he’s looking forward to a call from you.”
38. Virginia
WIGGED OUT
It’s a miracle that I make it to the end of the week without having a full-blown meltdown. Yesterday was Will’s forty-second birthday and I just couldn’t bear to call him. By mid-day I felt so guilty I texted him a lame emoji with a cake and “hope you had a fun birthday.”
No number of potted, high-rise plants will make this better. I need to get out of the city, to dig my bare hands into the ground, as cold as it’s going to be.
Sophie and Nick are happy for me to come up, offering me my regular bed—the top bunk in their son, Leo’s room.
Even though Aziz no longer has to shadow my every move, I’d promised he could work with me to plant the winter flowers he helped choose for Nick and Sophie’s garden. Sophie gives me the name of the economy bed-and-breakfast she recommends in Lily Valley, and I let Aziz know they have a room available for Saturday night. He offers to drive me and the plants up in the morning. Wins all the way around.
Normally I work alone, but having Aziz to chat with while we’re digging and planting is a pleasant distraction from the conversations I’ve been having with myself since talking to Colt two days ago.
He texted a couple of hours after our uncomfortable exchange to apologize for being so harsh. And he asked what I planned to do. I told him I’d wait for Will to call me so I could tell him directly why I gave up the contract. Colt agreed that was a good idea. Of course, Will hasn’t called, which has left me on edge, feeling like I’m keeping a not-so-secret secret from him.
After an amazing dinner of shepherd’s pie, made with Sophie’s dad’s Quebecois recipe, Nick offers to take us down to the firehall to shoot pool. Aziz is quick to accept, but I stay back to gossip with Sophie since we’ve had no quiet girl time in months.
I sit on the floor with Leo and his wooden trains. He chatters in a language that sounds more Muppet than any taught in schools.
“Frenglish? Franglais?” I laugh.
“Actually, I think he’s speaking canine. I am one hundred percent convinced those two communicate telepathically. How else to explain that Max knows exactly when to skulk into the kitchen when I’m not looking and steal food from Leo’s hand? People say cats are sneaky. They’ve obviously never had to deal with the antics of a toddler and a former service dog.”
“You seem really happy,” I say, pushing a Thomas the Tank Engine boxcar back toward a tiny hand.
