Page 132 of The Design of Goodbye
But I couldn’t. More tears fell, and they didn’t stop. I couldn’t get any words out. I was ruining everything. My apology. My—
Strong arms enveloped me. In my shock, I gripped the back of his jacket and gasped stuttering breaths against his neck. Through my tears, I whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said. “I know you are. It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Those three words had been all I’d wanted to hear, but they felt wrong. His forgiveness was too easy; it kind of always had been.
“You shouldn’t,” I whispered. “I’m not good”—I gripped him tighter—“enough for you.”
Remember what I always told you.
“Stop it.”
“You should’ve made me fight for you.”
“You found me. You apologized to me,” he said softly. “That’s enough for me.”
* * *
After Liam ate dinner, we went to his room. His comforter and blankets were in a crumpled pile on his bed. Clothes covered the floor, and contents of his plastic bins were scattered everywhere.
His bin with all his watercolor supplies was by his window. On the storage bin’s lid was a scrap piece of paper. I picked it up. He’d painted a raven—its wings spanned wide, its color a deep black. I didn’t hold the painting long. There was something disconcerting about Liam’s work...like the emotions seeped through the paper and into me.
When I turned around, I noticed a half-finished puzzle on a large piece of cardboard near his bed. “Why are you doing the puzzle flipped over?” I asked.
“More challenging.” He’d brought the remaining groceries upstairs and hid them—a few boxes of granola bars, peanut butter, and crackers—in a drawer of his nightstand.
A cold draft of air caused me to shiver. “Your house is freezing,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. “The furnace is acting up.”
“How do you sleep when it’s so cold?”
“Layers and lots of blankets.”
He grabbed his comforter and sat on the floor. After he propped his ankle on a pillow, he patted the space next to him. Once I sat down and he covered us, I grabbed the lid of his puzzle that contained the rest of the pieces. I picked a random piece and started placing it in any available space.
Liam watched me patiently for a few minutes. Then he said, “I have a method.”
“Show me?”
He took the lid from me. He shifted the contents around, his eyes moving back and forth from the half-finished puzzle to the remaining pieces. He finally grabbed a piece and rested it on his palm.
Pointing to a large curve at the top of the piece, he said, “You have to focus on the shape.”
He fitted the piece perfectly in the corner, and I eagerly took the box from him. “Let me try.”
It took me a while, but after I finally got one, I was determined to finish. Liam helped, and we spent the next hour finishing the puzzle.
“A piece is missing,” I said after I placed the last piece we had.
He shook the comforter out, and we searched around but couldn’t find it.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“It’s not.” I pushed the puzzle under his bed, unable to look at it. “It’s broken.”
I felt Liam’s gaze on me and stared at my hands, unable to look at him, either.
