Repeat(30)

“Thanks.”

He takes the suitcase and box of books, leaving me with nothing to do except open the door. Gordon does not want to stay inside. The dog yips at me once in protest. Earlier, we had hugs and many pats. I even took some photos of him with my cell.

“You told Frances about this?” asks Ed.

“Not yet.”

He raises his eyebrows in response.

“Clementine,” a voice crawls down the dimly lit common hallway, coming from the front door. If I’d been on my own, it would have freaked me right out. A dude grins at me, gaze creeping over me in a way I do not like. “You’re back? Or you’re leaving again already? Damn. That was quick.”

“Tim,” Ed says, muscling past the man.

“Good to see you.” Tim holds out his arms, coming toward me. And he’s a nice-enough looking guy, but he’s also a complete stranger.

Given how I feel about being touched in general, no fucking way am I letting him get close. So instead, I hold my hand out in the universal sign for stop and his arms flop back to his sides. The look on his face changes to surprise with a hint of resentment. But I don’t want to tell my story to this random person. Something about him just feels off. Probably the creeper-gaze thing. Like talking to my tits is okay.

“Leave her alone, man,” says Ed.

“What?” Tim sort of half-laughs. Like he knows he’s being called out on something yet isn’t willing to admit to it. “Thought we were friends.”

“We’re in a rush,” Ed continues. “Come on, Clem.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Just being neighborly.”

Sidestepping the man, I follow Ed out. And the look he gives Tim back over his shoulder isn’t happy.

Soon we’re standing out on the curb, the night closing in. The air is crisp, a little cooler than it was a few weeks ago. Already I feel lighter, better. Not only about getting out of sight of Tim the creeper, but about knowing that giving Ed his space is the right thing to do.

“Who was that guy?” I ask.

“Rents one of the other condos on our floor. Always was a bit overly friendly toward you. Ignore him. Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you’re breaking Gordon’s heart.” Ed hands my suitcase and then the box of books over to the driver to be put into the trunk.

“I’ll miss him.”

“You can still come visit.”

“Maybe in a few months. Once things are more settled and I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay. Be careful and don’t lose my number.”

“I won’t,” I say, weirdly gratified.

He opens the back door of the vehicle for me without comment. Gallant to the bitter end. The world doesn’t deserve Ed Larsen. Or maybe it’s just me who doesn’t, because my mouth betrays me one last time. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you cheated on me. I don’t know how I reached that conclusion back then, how it happened exactly. But—”

“Thank you,” he says, cutting me off. His eyes seem darker, more serious than ever. “I mean it, Clem. That was good to hear.”

I nod, pleased that I got something right at last.

He closes the door, taking a step back. Ed and I don’t say goodbye. But then, we’ve done this dance before, after his friend Tessa ripped into me the first time I visited. It felt final that time too, if I recall correctly. Though, this go-around, I know for certain that an era of my new life is over, the one where he was lingering on the fringes. It couldn’t have ever worked. An ex that you dumped on suspicion of cheating. Total amnesia wiping out all memory of a person. Either of those things is capable of destroying a relationship. Add them together, and you get a perfect storm of don’t-even-go-there.

From now on, if I want friends, I’m going to have to make them. If I want a man in my life, then I’m going to have to date. Eventually. There’s no rush.

Before the car can pull away from the curb, Ed shouts out, “Wait!”

I turn toward him, confused.

He opens my door, mouth set and forehead furrowed. “Stay.”

“What?”

“I’m asking you to stay.”

I just blink. “Why?”

In the front seat, the driver turns around, giving us both tired looks.

“We just need a minute,” says Ed, his jawline tense. “Because you’re different now. I mean, you’re still a pain in the ass, don’t get me wrong. But you’re a different kind of pain in the ass . . . one I think, given everything, I can deal with a bit better.”

“I don’t know . . .”

He swallows hard, gaze conflicted. “Look, what it comes down to is, if anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself, okay? So I want you to stay.”

“Make your mind up, people,” growls the driver, shaking his head.

“I’m going to screw up again, Ed. It’s a given.”

He nods. “I know.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“You’re a fucking mess, and honestly I don’t know that I’m much better. But you going off on your own isn’t the answer,” he says, holding his hand out to me. “C’mon.”

I still hesitate.