Page 86 of The Lies We Play
“It’s not.”
“Creed.”
“Yeah?”
A pause.
“If I forget this tomorrow —”
“You won’t.”
“If I do.”
I want to cry because if this is the only time I have him back, I want to tell him that I love him. That I haven’t forgotten. That I need him more than I need my next breath. That living without him and her has been fucking hell.
I don’t.
“Then I’ll remember for both of us.”
The line goes silent.
Then the call ends.
No goodbye.
No promise.
Just absence.
I sit there with the phone against my ear until the screen goes dark.
For one full minute, I don’t move.
Chapter Thirteen
Then . . .
Creed: What time is your last class today?
Liv: 3:30. Why?
Creed: Practice ends at 5. I'll meet you at the Vietnamese place.
Liv: I have a project due tomorrow.
Creed: Bring it. I'll watch you struggle and provide moral support.
Liv: Romantic.
Creed: I aim to please.
Liv: I’d rather do this at your place if you provide the food.
Creed: I can do that. I might even see if Halston can join us.
Liv: He's working late.
Creed: How do you know?
