Shaking her head, she worries her bottom lip. Nervous fingers fidget with her luggage handle again as she avoids my stare.
“I’m sure everything’s fine, Fish.”
Her startled eyes jump to mine like I’ve just slapped her.
“Are you alri—” I begin as someone slams into me from behind and I’m pushed forward. Instinctively, I grab Gretchen by the arm to keep us both from toppling over. The offending stranger hollers a quick apology over his shoulder as he sprints off and I steady myself on my feet.
Reluctantly, I remove my hand from her arm as I pretend not to notice the electricity that pulses through my fingertips where my skin touched hers.
“I’m sorry,” I say, desperate to get a read on her thoughts.
“For what?” Her throat bobs. “For calling me that or for bumping into me?” Her shoulders may be square and her spine straight, but I recognize the ruse. All the signs are there—no eye contact, the luggage handle she can’t decide if she wants up or down, unsteady feet shifting beneath her. She’s uncomfortable.
I said the wrong thing.
With a restrained release of breath, I squeeze the back of my neck. “Both, I guess.”
She nods imperceptibly before she finally meets my gaze, her face and tone both schooled into the same forfeiting expression. “Look, I know I said I wasn’t ready to talk, but I’m not under any ridiculous assumptions that we’re gonna be able to spend the next five days together andnottalk about it, so I?—”
“Why have you been ignoring my texts?”
“What?”
“You weren’t ready to talk and that’s fine. I’ll wait. But what about my other messages?” Her eyes bounce around so fast I can’t catch them.
“I didn’t see your other messages.” She swallows, voice sinking to a whisper. “I blocked your number.”
I blink. Sorrow and disbelief stab at that three-year-old wound until it’s ripped clean open. “You blocked me?”
“It wasn’t gonna be forever, okay? I just…needed…I have a lot on my mind and I needed to not think about”—she waves a hand between us—“this right now.”
My chin drops to my chest. I take in a hard sniff to squelch the emotion I already feel at the back of my throat.
She blocked me.
When I lift my head, I find her glassy-eyed gaze and I force myself not to look away. My resolve does nothing to steady the quiver in my voice. “Gretch, if you don’t want me here, I’ll go buymy return ticket right now. No hard feelings, I promise. I don’t wanna be here if you don’t want?—”
“That’s not what I’m?—”
“Do you want me to leave?” My voice rises above the fray, landing decisively on the woman in front of me who looks like she’s carrying the burdens of a thousand men.
With every silent beat, her shoulders soften, but the tears are right there, ready to fall at any moment. Finally, she whispers, “No.”
That’s all I need to know. “Let me see your phone.” I hold out my hand.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not letting you block me.” I curl my fingers toward my palm. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk, you have my word. But you don’t cut me out in the meantime.” When she makes no move to reach for her phone, I add, “Give it.”
She pulls her phone from her pocket and drops it in my hand. “You’re already unblocked, dumbass. I texted you fifteen minutes ago, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I quip, my smirk a reflection of hers. “Tell it to the judge. Passcode?” I ask.
“0630,” she says.
I tsk. “Your birthday? Seriously?”
“Seriously. What’s yours?”
