“Sorry it’s cold,” I offer.
“My fault,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand as she speaks. “You know, the night we met, I thought I’d never see you again.”
The words hang between us as I grab her a wineglass and fill it.
“I thought you were just some guy passing through town. If I’d known you’d keep showing up, I might have kept some things to myself,” she says.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
She plucks a black olive off the top of her slice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
Her voice softens. “Why didn’t you text me back?”
A breath releases from me. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“I can accept that,” she says. “But I can’t be ghosted by people who try to call themselves friends.”
I nod. “You’re absolutely right. I should’ve done better, and I apologize. You’ll never have to worry about not getting a response from me again. Apparently, I’ve been needing to work on my human connections, and since I left the city, that has become my new priority.”
“Wow. Thank you,” she says.
We stand in the kitchen, eating pizza and drinking wine, and I feel something shift. The awkwardness slowly melts away.
“God, I’ve been lonely,” she admits as we move to the couch. “Is that weird to say?”
“Not if it’s the truth.” I grab the remote and flick on the gigantic television that fills the wall. “Lately, I’ve felt the same. It’s almost like I’ve been living the same day over and over again; it was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Then I lost my shit in a meeting, and here we are.”
Her eyes are kind as she takes another bite of pizza. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“I am too.”
She raises her glass. “To friendship. And answered texts. And remembering the vodka next time.”
“To having the best damn autumn of our lives,” I counter, excited for pumpkin patches and apple cider.
“Amen.”
We clink glasses, and her smile is worth every minute I spent panicking that she wouldn’t show.
“So,” she says, settling in, “catch me up on your so-called life. I need entertainment with my pizza.”
“Only if you share.”
“Deal. But don’t you dare skip the embarrassing parts.”
I lean against the cushions, careful to keep a distance between us. “Okay, but remember, you asked for this …”
And just like that, we fall into a rhythm, like the eight months that separated us never happened. We’re just two people who found each other again at the right moment. We’re honest and raw. I tell her about work, and she talks about the coffee shop. This is the friendship I’ve been missing.
We talk until the pizza box is empty and the second bottle of wine is almost gone. She throws her head back and laughs at my stupid jokes. Throughout the night, I can’t stop staring at her lips.
“Your turn,” I say after I explain one of my embarrassing relationship moments.
She grows quiet, spinning her wineglass. “My ex-fiancé,Craig, showed up at my parents’ anniversary party with his new girlfriend three months after our engagement ended.” She looks up at me. “Want to know the pathetic part?”
I move closer without meaning to. “Tell me.”
