“Why not?”
“Because…” I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath so I don’t lose my temper with my bestie. Surprisingly, I’m not actually that angry. I’m more sad than anything else. “Because when Maverick met me, I was fine. And in a short while from now, I won’t be. I’ll be different. Broken.”
“You’re wrong,” Pip says, his tone mellowing as well. “Different, yes, Broken, no.”
“Come on now. Imagine you turn up to a Ferrari dealership, throw down half a mill, but when you pop the hood, it’s a Hyundai. No one wants to purchase a lemon.” I stab my chest. “I’m the Hyundai.”
Pip clenches his fists in front of his body, shaking them in frustration. “I hate hearing you talk about yourself like that.”
I fold my arms with quiet resolve. “I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”
He doesn’t say anything right away.
“Given everything that you are going through, I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you should or shouldn’t be feeling. So, I fully respect what you just said. But let me put it this way. Let’s say, hypothetically, you and Maverick start dating. And let’s say that at some point in the future, when you’re settled into the relationship and are deeply in love and things are going great, he gets sick. Or has a serious car accident. Or receives a cancer diagnosis. What would you do? Would you leave him? Say, ‘Sorry, honey. You weren’t like this when we met. Gotta bounce.’ Or would you stay with him because you know that life is full of unexpected ups and downs and that it’s not about what you go through, it’swhoyou go through it with? That if you love someone, you stay with them through it all. No matter how hard things may get.”
I cover my face with my hands, like I’m physically trying to prevent the truth, the rightness, of what he’s saying from getting through to me.
He’s made his point, and he’s made it well.
But my mind is made up.
I’m not telling Maverick because we aren’t in a relationship and deeply in love. Yes, I have feelings for him, and a part of mewishes we could have something more, but it’s just not going to happen.
We had one fun weekend together. That’s all it can ever be.
“You can’t see me,” I say, slipping into Maverick’s office.
He stops typing, shuts his laptop lid partway, and meets my eyes across the room. “What are you doing?”
“Reinstating my coffee and note ritual,” I reply, lifting my hands so he sees the coffee mug and Post-it note I’m carrying, hoping like hell it doesn’t sound like the world’s most pathetic excuse to be around him for a moment…which it totally is.
It’s Friday.
Five days since our weekend together.
For four of them, Maverick has been working from home. He texted Sunday night, letting me know that Wagner and Sammy had come down with strep throat. Thankfully, he doesn’t share a house with them, so he’s fine. But since it is contagious and he was determined to stay close by to help with whatever they needed, he didn’t want to risk getting anyone at the center sick.
Like I wasn’t already aware he was the world’s best brother and uncle, he goes ahead and does something as nice as putting his life on hold to take care of his family.
“Just dropping these off,” I say, focusing on reaching his desk without spilling any coffee.
The good news is that my headaches are almost entirely gone. The bad news is the loss of my central vision is accelerating. Unless I’m right up close to something, everything’s just a blur.
I can tell Maverick is at his desk and that he’s wearing a dark suit. Navy, maybe? But his face is so out of focus, I can’t make out any details.
“I won’t bother you,” I say with a smirk once I’ve securely placed the mug on his desk. “Feel free to return to whatever very important email you were sending.”
I hear him chuckle at my jab. “Hope you remembered my order.”
“Sure did. Half-and-half with one sugar.”
“I’m impressed. But wait, aren’t you doing this a little later than you used to?”
“Clomper’s hoof abscess flared up, needed some extra cleaning and poulticing. Just pretend I’m not here.”
He rolls his chair backward, away from his desk. Ifeelhis eyes on me. “So I’m just a crazy person talking to an imaginary person?”
“Correct.”
