“Yep.” He laughed. “Bring your own air mattress.”
“You going to Billy’s for the game Saturday?” I hoped he said yes because I didn’t want an awkward goodbye.
“You know it.”
“See you Saturday, then.”
Jack nodded. “See you Saturday.”
After I shut the door, I turned on some music and went into my office. It’d been a month now since Olivia found out the truth, and I’d given up trying to change her mind. She’d blocked my calls and wouldn’t let me into her apartment, and she’d even taken the huge bouquet of flowers I sent—my last-ditch effort—and left them on the table in the lobby, where they slowly died a little more each day.
I hadn’t seen her face since that morning, and it was killing me.
But that was that.
It was done.
I’d read her column a few times and it was amazing. I was happy that she’d landed a job that seemed perfect for her. It was funny and self-deprecating and so incredibly Olivia that I’d had to stop reading it because I missed her too much.
I logged into my laptop and started working, but everything felt wrong. Maybe it was just because Jack was gone and I was alone, but everything felt off. Things should’ve been back to normal—Liv and I hadn’t even been officially a thing to begin with—but the world was just shit now.
I leaned back in the chair and ran a hand over my chin. Jillian thought it was just because I’d never been dumped before. She thought the shock of being a dumpee was making this rough on me, and it probably had next to nothing to do with the actual girl.
She was so wrong.
I started thinking about that morning again, like I always did, thinking about all the things I wished I’d said. They wouldn’t have made a difference in us staying together, but perhaps I’d feel less shitty about the whole thing if she’d have let me explain.
I went to her magazine’s website and clicked on the Oh, Olivia! page.
It seemed like a pathetic, incredibly lame thing to do, but I clicked on the form to submit a letter. I probably wouldn’t end up sending it, but it might prove therapeutic, right? I stared into space and tried to come up with words.
Dear Olivia,
I did the unthinkable—I fell for two women.
One was charming, witty, and smart, and the other was beautiful, passionate, and more fun than anyone I’ve ever known. I could’ve spent a lifetime talking to each of them, listening to their wildly entertaining takes on the world and getting lost in their contagious laughter. I’ve never felt as alive as when I was with them, and I can’t stop dreaming about wild green eyes and tiny freckles. Dogs and elevators and pepperoni casserole.
They turned out to be the same woman, so there’s no doubt that she’s the one for me, but I think I ruined everything by being a coward. Do you have any advice as to how I can convince her—this wonder woman who can repair a broken heel with six pieces of bubble gum—to give me another chance?
I’d do anything for another shot because I’m crazy about her.
—Robot Brain, Omaha, NE
Olivia
“It’s for sure him.” I took a big gulp from my glass of wine and still couldn’t believe it. I’d read and reread that submission all afternoon, obsessed since the minute it had hit my inbox. I ticked the items off on my fingers. “They’re the same woman, dogs, pepperoni casserole, elevators—that’s totally us! And I actually called him a robot brain once, so it has to be from him.”
Sara and her husband, Trae, sitting across from me on their patio with their adorable baby as the firepit blazed between us, had stopped contributing to my conversation altogether and just watched me as I repeated the same things over and over again. Broken heel with bubble gum. Dogs. Pepperoni casserole. Elevators.
But I just couldn’t believe it was from him.
When did he learn to write like that?
It made me cry for an hour, because I still missed him so much it cramped my stomach.
I said, “Am I drunk to consider talking to him?”
“You must be drunk for sure,” Sara said and reached for the bottle. “Don’t call that asshole.”
Trae patted the baby’s back and said, “But you’ll always wonder if you should’ve talked to him if you don’t.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Sara gave him a withering look that spoke volumes.
“It’s only been a month, and you’re second-guessing whether or not you should talk to him. As time goes on, you’ll wonder more and more why you didn’t just hear him out.”