Page 35 of The Time It Takes
I don’t react.
“I did,” I tell her softly. I hate that she’s suddenly not angry anymore. “My entire life I’ve done nothing but lose things. I decided I was done. I wanted to be someplace where no one looked at me the way you’re looking at me now. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want those I love to walk on eggshells around me. I was suffocating here. Everything that I had ever lost came from here. I knew that if I stayed, I would keep looking for another way out. I would keep chasing the feeling I had when those things still existed. There’s no explanation I have that will satisfy you.”
My fingers ache from how tight I’m holding onto the bottle in my hand. “I was saving myself,” I add quietly. “I was saving myself because I couldn’t stand to bring you all down with me.”
Her shoulders drop slightly as her defenses melt away. Slowly, she walks around the counter until she’s standing right in front of me. I watch as her eyes fill with tears. She hugs me at the same time I hug her.
She sighs. “You bitch.” I pull back from her and laugh a little. She’s wiping away her tears as she says, “These damn hormones.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “I missed you.”
She smiles a sad smile. “I missed you too.” And then, “Here,” she says, letting go and heading toward the door to flip her sign to CLOSED on the door. “Let’s talk in my office.”
PHOEBE AND I spent the remainder of the day and partway through the night talking on her office floor. I don’t remember when we transitioned from her puke green loveseat to the cold tiled floor, but here we are. She’s watched me drink half of the bottle and I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying it more than I am. She told me her son’s name is Finn—short for Finnick. I cried when she told me because it was Benji’s middle name. They had named their son after him.
After all this time that I’ve been lost in my grief, I managed to forget that I wasn’t the only person who loved Ben.
For their daughter, they decided to just decide on the spot. They think that as soon as they see her, the perfect name will come to them. I asked when the relationship between her and Dean started, and she said it was three years after I left. They got married a year later.
“I never in a million years would have thought to see you two together,” I announce, my words a little slurred.
“Me either,” she agrees. “The first time we hooked up, it was more like an ‘I hate you, but God I can’t get enough of you’.” She shrugs. “Turns out we were both just in love with each other.”
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “Why did you hate him?”
“He’s the reason Dylan and I called it quits—or rather I did…” she trails off as she leans forward from where she was leaning against the wall to rub her lower back. I remain sprawled on my stomach with the bottle pressed to my lips.
“I think I’ve hated him for so long because I didn’t want to believe that I loved him,” she says more to herself than me. “I mean it wasDean…you know?”
I nod like I’m understanding what she’s saying, but my mind is swimming in the fact that I’m here, talking with an old friend. She shrugs again as she goes back to supporting her back against the wall, her hands running absently over her belly.
“Do you have anyone in New York?” she asks after a moment. “Do you have people?”
I smile at her question. “I have a Julian.”
She gives me a knowing look that insinuates more than it should. “A Julian,” she repeats, smirking. She puts an accent on his name and despite the thought of him making me a little sad, I manage to laugh.
“Do tell,” she encourages.
I don’t tell her that he’s part of the reason that I’m here right now. Instead, I say, “I met his sister first, actually—Abigail. We shared the flight to New York. I didn’t meet Julian until three years ago after he got back from Paris. He’s an artist. A hell of a good one I must add. He asked me out on a date, and I told him no. He asked me out on another date, and I told him no again.” I chuckle at the memory.
“And then what?” she asks.
I sigh. “Now we’re friends.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “But you’ve slept together.”
My eyes widen. “Why would you say that?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I wasn’t certain, but now I am.”
My groan blends into a laugh as I grab a pillow from the couch and throw it at her, but she manages to catch it.
She grins as she tucks it behind her back. “So, what now?” she asks. “Obviously you guys are still close. Are you…you know?” She bounces her eyebrows up and down insinuatingly.
“No,” I say quickly. “Friends. We’re just friends.”
Her smile falls. “Poor guy.”
