“Nah,this is fine. It’s almost over anyway.” I sipped my coffee and slid the cuponto the table. “So, hey, did Jane’s house ever sell?”
Hergaze remained on the coffee in her hands as she twisted her lips and released asad, weighted breath. “Yeah. Alex actually called me today about that.”
“Oh,”I raised my eyebrows, “that’s a good thing, right?”
“Iguess. It just feels really, um … over.”
Iquirked my lips into a half-smile. “So, why is this something to look so sadabout?”
Shrugging,she continued to pout. “I guess it just feels like the end. I mean, you know Ihad such a hard year, and trying to sell that damn house followed me throughoutall of it. So, knowing it’s now gone is like …” She hesitated, cocking her headand considering her words. “It’s like saying goodbye to the whole freakin’year.”
Myarm stretched out over the back of the couch. My fingers sat inches away fromtouching her hair. “I would’ve thought you’d be relieved about that.”
“Iknow,” she said with a slight bob of her head. “I guess I am, but in a way,saying goodbye to that house feels like saying goodbye to every other difficultthing I’ve dealt with this year. Losing my parents, losing Sam, the break-up withmy fiancé … getting over all that pain is almost as bad as the pain itself.”
Inodded, relating her situation to the only thing I understood. “I guess I cankinda understand that. I mean, when I thought Sam had gotten an abortion, Imourned for a while. It sucked because nobody else knew about it, so I was leftto deal with the whole thing on my own. But in a way, I think not havinganybody to talk to about it kinda helped in not thinking about it, you know?” Ilooked toward her eyes and she nodded, so I continued: “I’d go all day, notgiving it any thought. But then, at night, it’s all I could think about. Like,what kinda person would he have become if he’d been given the chance, or wouldhe have looked like me or her, and it hurt so fucking badly, thinking I’d neverknow. And it felt like I’d never move past that feeling, but one day, I juststopped thinking about it all that much. I don’t even know when it was, but itsucked to suddenly realize that I couldn’t remember the last time I thoughtabout my unborn kid.”
Tabbywas silent as she nodded, clenching her fingers tighter around the mug. Iwondered what was on her mind, or at the tip of her tongue.
“ButI think we’resupposedto continue with our lives, Tabby,” I went on, “andI think that’s why we let go when we’re not even aware that we’re doing it. It’ssurvival. So, I get why you’re kinda down about the house, and the yearbeing over, but I think it’s also a good thing that you’re moving forward.Because that means you’re surviving, and there’s not much that’s more importantthan that.”
Forthe first time since sitting down, Tabby turned to me. A mist glazed over hereyes and the corners of her mouth lifted with a smile.
“Youknow, I think I’m finally starting to realize that Greyson was right aboutyou,” she whispered.
Inarrowed my eyes. “What the hell did that little shit say about me? Because ifhe mentioned my stash of porn, it’s notmyfault he—"
“Ohmy God,” she groaned, laying a hand over her eyes and laughing before lettingit drop to her lap. “No, that’s not what he mentioned, and for the record, Ihave no idea why you’d even have astashof pornwhen you can geteverything for free on the internet.”
Ishrugged nonchalantly and grabbed for my cup of coffee. “Attachment issues.”
Tabbylaughed with a roll of her eyes, running her fingers through her long, red hair,now kept loose and hanging long over her back. “Greyson said you were one of ourgood things, and despite comments like that, I think he’s probably right.”
Itook a long, slow sip of coffee and watched her intently from over the brim.This moment … italmostfelt right. To tell her I was never going tostop loving her, that she was it for me, that a life with her and Greyson wasthe only life I wanted. But there was still that word,probably. Greysonwasprobablyright.
Withthe mug empty, I placed it back on the coffee table and nodded. “Only probably,huh?”
Hersmile was almost apologetic. “Don’t push it, Sebastian.”
“Nah,you’re right.” I nodded slowly, pulling my arm away from the back of the couchand laying my hand beside her bare thigh.
Myeyes dropped to the script etched into her skin, the tattoo I had noticedmonths before. With a bold touch of my fingers, I traced a line over thecursive text, and read, “’She is freedom.’”
Ithought about that, about her, about what the words might’ve meant.
“Hm,”I grunted with a single bob of my head. “You got it over the summer?”
“InAugust, yeah. While I was in Pennsylvania, after seeing Breaking Benjamin.”
“Youwere by yourself?” She nodded, and then, I was reading between the lines. Noddingand knowing what they meant. It was her gift, a tribute, to her sister. And thepermanent reminder of what Tabby wanted for herself. “I like it. It suits you.”
“Youdon’t even know why I got it.” Her laugh was awkward. Choked.
“It’sreally none of my business,” I replied with a shrug. “And for the record, youare.”
“Iam what?” I gave her leg another pat and stood up. Grabbing my jacket off thechair, I headed toward the door, with Tabby hurrying behind me. “Hey, answerthe question!”
“Tabby,”I groaned playfully, turning on my heel. “It’s past my bedtime and I still needto drive home.”
