He watched her. “Including me.”
Her heart finally accepted what she hadn’t allowed herself to admit. “I will never forget you. You’re not . . . you’re not a guy across the hall that I enjoy spending time with. You’re more. I don’t—” She rubbed her chest with her thumb. Things were fracturing inside, and she couldn’t control it.
“You can go, but the past will still be there. Inescapable.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I still take my parents’ call every year, even though it cuts me up inside, even though I know I’ll be useless for a month after the call. When we’re tied to people, we think about them, miss them. Need them. You can run, or you can stay,” Sam said. “You have to make the call as to which life you want to live.”
She sat back down. The envelope in her hand.
“For what it’s worth,” Sam added, “I’m sorry that you had to be an adult at sixteen. That wasn’t your call. The rest of it, doing it on your own, that’s a choice. You make it every day.”
She put her face in her hands.
He knelt in front of her. “A shitty thing happened to you. I’m sorry for that.”
When he was on his knees, they were at eye level with each other.
“You’re more to me too. You’re not the only one that’s careful with their heart. I won’t risk being the only one who commits. If this is a relationship, you can’t just cut and run when things get hard. I won’t sign up for that.”
He touched his lips to her forehead, then walked away. She let the cold wrap around her. The envelope in her lap. She stayed until the streetlights behind her flickered on. With freezing hands and feet, she walked back to her apartment, closed the doors behind her, and curled up on the bed.
Her bed. The first one she’d ever bought. The bedding she loved so much with its little yellow daisies embroidered on white linen. It was warm and cozy, the perfect cocoon for her chilled body. She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep to take her for a few hours so her brain and heart could get a little rest.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Her eyes were red and sticky, and Meena struggled to open them. The morning sun was bright enough to wake her. She could lie here forever if not for her bladder. Once she washed her face and cleaned the gunk from her eyes, she wandered to the kitchen. She had instant coffee and milk in the fridge. One thing, then another. That was the plan for the day.
She spotted a large cup and a bag from a bakery on Boylston Street with a sticky note.
If you need anything, I’m across the hall. So is Wally.
Her heart burst. She’d never been in love. It was foreign, but somewhere in her being, she knew this was what she felt for Sam. Joy. Bliss. And even as a part of her heart was hurting, the space where he existed was lush and alive.
She sat at the dining table and took a big sip of coffee. It was perfect, as was the bag with three pastries—a croissant, an apple tart, and a chocolate doughnut. She munched on the doughnut. Waited for the sugar to wake her foggy brain.
“Knock, knock.” Tanvi popped her head in. “There you are. Good morning.”
“Hi.”
“It looks so lovely in here.” Tanvi closed the door behind her. “You have a good eye, but I can tell you’re afraid of color with all this white and blue. You need some prints, some fun in here. Let’s wander down Newbury today, look for some art or a vase, something to add pop. It’s beautiful outside, sunny and high fifties. We can have lunch, make a day of it.”
Meena didn’t want to think about motive or whether Tanvi knew about yesterday. She wanted to sit and enjoy her coffee. “Maybe another time. I have a few things to work on today.”
“Like what?”