Page 68 of Call You Mine
Taking a breath, the urge to start counting my inhales is strong, but I try to resist, telling myself that I have the power to prevent my response—to make the choice to not count. That nothing bad will happen if I don’t. My fingers begin tapping against the pad of my thumb, going from my pointer finger to my pinky before going back in the same order.
A palm rests on my shoulder, and it gets me out of my head. Turning around, I look at Anderson, a habit I’ve developed tonight—one I don’t want to think too much about rightnow. The relief is instant—and surprising. I expect it to be short-lived, taken aback by how, just like earlier, his lazy smile, his kind eyes, and his gentle touch instantly reassure me.
With a slight inclination of his head in my direction, as if sayingI’m here if you need me, my mind quiets.
It doesn’t go silent—I don’t think it ever will.
But the thoughts that were clawing at the inside of my skull, loud and relentless, soften into something distant, like music playing in another room—still there, but quiet enough that I don’t have to listen if I don’t want to.
I take another breath, and this time, I can ignore the compulsion to count.
I go on to explain to Rumi, Emerson, and Jack—who still has yet to say a word, not at all shocking—the version of events that Anderson and I agreed on for our story. Leaving out most of the details about my mom for Georgie’s sake, I explain how things got bad enough that Georgie had to call me, and that even her teachers had some concerns. Because of that, she was assigned a social worker. I relayed to them what Patricia told me about my situation and how it might not look good to CPS, and that Anderson and I agreed to get married earlier than we thought we would, because it strengthens my case.
“So, when are you tying the knot?” Emerson asks after I’ve filled them all in.
“Soon. We still have to figure out the date,” I answer, since I still haven’t had a chance to tell Anderson that I want to make a quick pit stop at the Little White Chapel when we get to Vegas next month. “But we have a few home studies we need to prepare for, so we decided that we will be moving in together,” I add, suddenly nervous and feeling like an asshole for dumping this on Emerson. “Tomorrow.”
Emerson’s eyes slightly widen, but she doesn’t look upset. “You’re moving out?”
“I’m so sorry, Em.” I apologize. “I promise to still pay my half of rent until the lease is up, and—” Emerson holds up her hand, stopping me.
“Stop,” Emerson says. “We got the apartment for a steal since we’re subletting from some guy who’s traveling or something for another year. I’ve been taking on some more freelance work and could use the extra space for an office and all my art supplies.”
“Still,” I say. “I feel so bad leaving you high and dry.”
“You’re not.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Like I said, I could really use the space. And while I’ve loved living with you, and you,” she turns to point to Georgie, giving her a wink, “I wouldn’t mind going back to living alone.”
I sigh in relief, my eyes prickling.
“This is all so crazy.” Rumi turns to look at Anderson, her own eyes glistening. “And Anderson, wow. That is so amazing of you.”
“I’m happy to do it,” he answers, and it sounds so sincere.
“As if he wouldn’t do anything for Ava,” Emerson says with a scoff, taking her beer back from Jack and taking a swig. “We can all finally stop pretending that we don’t see that you’ve been in love with her since day one.”
My breath hitches, and it’s like everything around me slows. Conversation continues around me, Rumi asking Jack if he knew any of this, Emerson asking Georgie how she feels about it all, but I turn around, finding Anderson looking at me—just like he always is.
Only now, it’s not like he’s trying to find the words to ask me something.
It’s like he’s waiting for my answer.
He’s just playing the part, I tell myself, like I always do.
He hasn’tactuallybeen in love with me…
Has he?
No.
The thought itself is absolutely ridiculous.
There’s nothingrealabout Anderson and me.
There never has been.
There never will be.
It was always just sex.
