“I’m a grown man. I can watch myself.”
“We can watch him,” Lyra nods. “No problem.”
My eye twitches. “I’m a grown man,” I repeat. “I can watch myself.”
Jove, eyes set adoringly on his wife, hums. “We can watch him,” he echoes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“A. Grown. Man.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate it, guys.”
“Fully, even. A fully grown man.”
“We’re happy to help!”
“A fully grown man!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Boys have feelings too… I guess.
Elodie
“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” Sol asks, tossing his legs over mine on his—previouslyour—big, cozy green couch to take me hostage for his sneaky ambush. It’s been hours since I got to his apartment. Hours spent together eating lunch, catching up, and, apparently, lulling me into a false sense of security.
“I already told you what’s going on with me. Work. School. Wedding. What more is there to know?” I was pretty comprehensive, all things considered. So I left outonething. One thing out of the many I have going on isn’t so bad, right?
“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighs. “Maybe the reason you haven’t looked me in the eye all morning? Or maybe the reason why you keep getting grump face when I talk, when my Ellie girlnevergot grump face at me before. Ormaybewe can discuss you ignoring my texts, phone calls, and homing pigeons for the last several months, barely giving me a single ‘busy’ text, then suddenly showing up and acting mad weird throughout lunch, as evidenced by the grump face. Which one of those would you like to address first?”
“I can look you in the eye,” I protest, doing just that. For three whole seconds, even. “Also, maybe you just forgot what my face looks like.Alsoalso, I wasn’t ‘ignoring’ you. I was busy with work, school, and Ruby and Will’s wedding. Like I told you.”
“You’re scratching your nose,” he notes. “Like you do whenyou lie.”
I drop my hand. “Pretty rude to call me a liar.”
“Pretty rude to lie to me.”
Well.
“Everything is fine, Sol.”
“Everything is not fine, Elodie. You’re avoiding me.” Worry clouds his cool blue eyes as he grabs my hands, clasping them between his.. “You’re my best friend. My Ellie. Myyou and me against our parents, then the world. If something’s wrong… ifI’vedone something wrong… I want to know. Please. I want to fix it.”
Fix it, he says. As if it’s just that easy. As if you can undo leaving a person. Even if he did move back—even if we were magically able to get our old apartment and move in together again and put everything precisely where it was before—it wouldn’t be the same. He’d still have left.
I’d still have not been enough to make him stay.
The silence stretches as I search for words to explain. Or words to evade. Whichever.
His stare weighs heavy and expectant.
I sigh.
“There’s nothing for you to fix,” I answer finally.
“But there is something?” he asks. “Something I’ve done wrong?”
“It’s not… you didn’t do anythingwrong.”
