“Can you please forgive me?”
“No. Go home.”
“I can’t lose you, Naomi.”
“You just did.”
“Please. I promise there won’t be any more secrets.”
“Secrets? Is that what you think this is about? Secrets? You let me feel like an idiot, and you took advantage of me. How am I supposed to know that you weren’t laughing behind my back every time I had sex with you, not knowing who the hell you really were? I wish I had never written back to you. I wish I had chosen a different name out of that damn hat back in fifth grade.”
It hurts to hear her say that.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounds lower now, like she’s sitting on the floor. I lower myself to the floor so that we’re at the same level.
“Your letters were the only consistent thing in my life for a long time,” I say. “My parents were always fighting when they were together. After my dad left, my dog got out of the house and we never saw him again. Then my mom got sick, and she passed away the same day I graduated high school. All I had after that was the military and your letters. I moved around a lot for four years, but your letters always found me. They were the only good thing in my life, and then … and then they just stopped one day. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t written back after I wrote that first mean letter to you, or if it had been someone else who wrote to me in the first place. I don’t think any of the other kids in our classes continued to write to each other past those first couple of months. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it might not have changed much. My mom would have still cheated on my dad. My dad would have still left, and my mom would have still died. I don’t know if I would have joined the military or dated Penny. I would have had much lower standards if I didn’t know you existed, and maybe I would have married someone else. But maybe not. My dad would have still reached out to me, and I would have come to Miami and met the three siblings I didn’t know I had. I would have moved into this building anyway, and had no idea who you were the day you held that door open for me.” I wait a moment to see if she has anything to say, but she’s quiet. “I probably would have asked you out a lot sooner.”
I lean against the door and wait for her to respond, but she doesn’t. I probably wasted my breath. She must have walked away a while ago. She didn’t hear a word I just said. I stay by her door for a while longer. I regret the way I handled this whole thing. I wish for a moment that I could go back in time and introduce myself that day she held the door open for me. If I had, I might not have had the time that I did with her these last few weeks. In the end, lying to her wasn’t worth it, but I wouldn’t trade the time that I got to spend with her for anything. I wish that I could tell her that without it sounding like I’m minimizing what I’ve done to her. After a while, I decide that it’s best if I leave her alone. I stand up and head for the stairwell.
ChapterThirty-One
SAY MY NAME
Naomi
It takes me a while to respond because I don’t trust my voice. I’m so angry with him, but even more so at myself for falling for any of what he just said. I wipe my eyes, and then take in a shaky breath.
“You wouldn’t have seen me in Miami,” I say. “I never thought about becoming a meteorologist until you suggested it. I would have been somewhere else with some other job.”
Some other job that I probably wouldn’t love as much, but I don’t say that out loud. I realize that it’s been a moment and he hasn’t responded. I wait a while longer. Still nothing. I stand up and open the door. He’s not there anymore.
* * *
I don’t get much sleep. I’m sure it shows on my face. I pack on my makeup in the morning, but I’m afraid that the dark circles under my eyes will still scare away the new viewers I brought in when I wore that green dress. It’s days like this I wish our station had a makeup artist.
I’m more grateful than ever for the cup of coffee Anne brings me. I know I said that she would be the first person I’d tell if Luca showed up at my door, but I feel too ashamed to tell her now. I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to not realize it was him the whole time.
“You look tired,” she remarks as she hands me my coffee. “Someone keep you up all night?”
She says this with a wink, her tone suggestive. I’m not sure how to respond without giving myself away, so I choose to ignore her. Nothing gets past her, though. She sits down, rolling her chair forward so that she’s right next to me.
“You’re upset,” she says. “Talk.”
“I really don’t want to.” I lock my gaze onto my computer screen, but I can’t focus on it. My vision blurs as my focus lands somewhere in the air between my head and the monitor.
“Hey.” Her hand touches my arm. “You know I’m here for you.”
“I have work to do.”
“It’s Luca, isn’t it? Did he … show up?” She slows her speech mid-sentence.
I turn to look at her. I shouldn’t be surprised that she would guess this is about Luca, considering he’s all we’ve been talking about the last few weeks. I wish that she would let me process this on my own, but I guess it might be helpful to talk to her about it.
“Jake wasn’t his real name,” I say. I pause a moment. She doesn’t prod, just watches me patiently. “He’s Luca.”
It takes a moment for her eyes to widen, and then, in a hushed voice, she says, “Oh my God, really?”
