I don’t plan on throwing them out. Not yet.
As usual, Tristan turns out to be right, and I smile to myself when I see the name on the incoming text. It’s a mess of an apology with too many tangents and no punctuation. Another message comes in:
Holden
I swear I wasn’t intentionally ignoring you
I completely understand if you’re mad at me
I’d be pissed at me
Dealla
STOP
Give me a chance to respond. Please.
I’m not mad. I promise. You warned me this would happen.
Holden
I still shouldn’t have taken two weeks to reply. And that makes it sound so much more horrible, as if I planned to not talk to you… I’m so sorry
Dealla
If you apologize one more time, I won’t talk to you for a month.
Holden
You would never
Dealla
Yeah, I know. I’d miss your face too much, and why should I punish myself?
Holden
I miss you xx
I curl against the arm of my couch and ignore the fluttering beneath my ribs. The main character on the television says his trademark quote, but now that I have Holden’s attention, I couldn’t care less about Letterkenny, Canada and its citizens.
Eventually, Holden’s replies come slower, and I realize I have no idea where in the world he is now. It could be the middle of the night for all I know. I chew on my bottom lip and send a goodnight text. A squeal escapes from my smiling lips when his response is a dozen heart-kiss emojis.
My phone chimes, and I sip my coffee as I unlock the device. The picture that zooms into focus fills my screen causes me to choke. I fumble to close out the message thread, and my cheeks burn as I cough violently to dispel the coffee suddenly going where it shouldn’t. Luci raises a brow and calls out a ‘You okay?’, and I wave off my friend’s concern. Wrapping my fingers around my cup, I all but run out of the building.
I’ve come to expect the usualGood morning, sweethearttext. I’ve grown to look forward to them, to need them to have a pleasant start to my day. But never before have they been accompanied by a nude selfie clearly taken after his shower. The most risqué photo he’s sent me was of him shirtless. This, though...
I send back a jumbled mass of letters and a few heart-eye and water droplet emojis.
And if I stare at the picture for a few minutes while safely within the confines of my car, that’s my business.
I pause twenty minutes later as I round the corner to my apartment: Katie stands outside my door, glaring in my direction as Ashton sits on the floor with a plastic car. Wondering how long my former stepsister has been waiting, I approach as if she’s a viper waiting to attack. Ashton beams up at me then stumbles to his feet. He reaches for the doorknob, grunting with exertion when he tries to twist it. Katie scoffs when I come to a stop.
“Finally. Where the hell have you been?”
I bite my tongue and gently move my nephew out of the way so I can unlock the door. Katie doesn’t cross the threshold, but Ashton follows me happily. “I went for a run then got some coffee. Why are you here?”
“As you know, my birthday is on Sunday. I was hoping you could keep him for a few days so I can work and celebrate.”
