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“It did,” I admit. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it, even to myself, but ever since the first time I saw Kenna with the kids, ever since the first time I kissed her, I think I started to fall.
“And you know she feels the same.”
“Do I?” I think about it, how she told me she loved me, but at the same time, I’m her first. How does she even know what love is?
“Just because she’s young doesn’t mean that she doesn’t know her own heart, Derek.”
“Suzanna said she loved me, too,” I mumble, and Grayson sighs.
“I understand how it feels to shut your heart off, you know?” he says, and he’s right, he does. He’d done the same when Lilian left, before she came back.
“I don’t know how to get it back,” I confess, ordering another drink.
“Neither did I,” Grayson says with a chuckle. “But it turns out that you can.”
“I don’t know ifIcan,” I insist, and I’m being stubborn but I’m also telling the truth. The only way I knew how to handle what Suzanna did was shutting everything down. I hadn’t talked about it unless I was drunk, hadn’t dealt with it unless I had to.
My friend shrugs. “You’ll have to figure out if she’s worth it.”
I’m silent because the thing is, I know that she is.
I just don’t know that I am.
It’s another four drinks (five?) before Lilian comes to pick us up and drives me back home, and I don’t feel like I’ve made any progress in feeling better. At least I feel numb in a way, the alcohol fuzzing out the harshest parts of what I feel, but still, all I can think about is Kenna.
It’s only nine in the evening when I arrive, and I know that I’m late but I couldn’t bring myself to call her ahead of time.
I expect her to be in bed, but instead when I stumble inside and kick off my shoes, she’s sitting in the living room and she stands up.
“Where have you been?” she hisses. “I was worried sick.”
I look down at my phone and see that I have about a dozen missed calls.
“Shit,” I say thickly, and Kenna tilts her head.
“Are you...drunk?”
I nod slowly, looking at her, and she sighs.
“Derek,” she says, but it’s not scolding, more like almost soft. “Can’t we talk about this?”
“Talk about what?” I ask, sitting down heavily on the couch and loosening my tie.
Kenna doesn’t back down. “You know what.”
I shrug, the alcohol making it seem like this is easier to deal with even though my heart is still aching.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say firmly, and Kenna nods tersely.
“Okay,” she says tightly. “Fine.” She pauses. “But the next time you’re going to be three hours late, you better call me. I might have somewhere else to be.”
My gaze snaps to hers and I feel something like jealousy brewing in my stomach. It’s stupid. She’s told me that she’s not seeing anyone else, but aren’t all bets off now?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“None of your business,” she snaps, and stalks up the stairs.
Great. I really handled that well.
