Space (Laws of Physics #2)(57)

I nodded, setting my elbow on the arm of the chair and placing my thumb under my chin, my fingers along the side of my face.

“But then, you broke up.”

“As I explained, we didn’t break up, and I shouldn’t have called her my ex. I didn’t have another word, a better word for what—it wasn’t—we weren’t—”

“Whatever. You obviously thought of her that way at the time, clearly. The issue is the writing. Before her, you wrote. With her, you wrote lyrics that eventually became four hit singles and an album that is on its way to triple platinum. After her, you didn’t write. Not at all.”

She paused here, as though to let her words sink in, and then she added, “Yes, you revised what you’d already written. You also got yourself arrested a few times, before we met, and made some questionable life choices. As time heals all wounds, those days post meteor-Mona are behind you. But now—” Kaitlyn gestured to the notebook on the desk, punctuating the movement with a truncated head nod. “You’re writing again.”

“Yes.” I was too tired to figure out where she was going with this.

“That’s great. I know you missed it. I know it’s been a struggle. And I hope all these new poems become number one hits, or I hope they never get turned into songs at all. Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy. But . . .” She trailed off again.

Her gaze seemed to waver, grow uncertain, like she already regretted the next words out of her mouth.

“What? Just say it.”

“But what happens when this week ends?”

Gnawing my bottom lip, I met my friend’s somber stare, her words echoing in the room, in my head, and in my heart. What happens when this week ends?

I was no longer looking at Kaitlyn. I was looking beyond her, into the future, something I rarely—if ever—did.

“Abram,” she started gently, “it’s Tuesday. We’re leaving early Thursday.”

Thursday.

Shit. I broke into a cold sweat.

It’s too soon. We need more time.

A thought occurred to me. “If the snow lets us.” I brought her back into focus. “We might be trapped here for several more days.”

“Look outside.” Kaitlyn shook her head, her gaze full of sympathy. “The sun is shining. Check the forecast. No snow for the next four days. If Melvin can plow the mountain road, Martin and the rest of the furloughed significant others trapped in Aspen will probably arrive today. We’re leaving Thursday, at o’dark thirty. I think the plane leaves at six. You have to be in Seattle for Friday’s concert. You and the band have been practicing for months, you’re at the top of your game, the show is sold out.”

I made no sign of agreement, even though she was telling me things I already knew to be true. Also true, Mona had finally been honest and I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not yet.

She sighed. It was also full of sympathy. “Now that I’ve provided context, do you still want my advice?”

Staring at her, undecided, I continued gnawing on my lip.

“Abram?”

“If you’re going to tell me to let her go, or that it’s impossible, or that the timing makes it impossible, then no. I don’t want your advice.”

Her lips curved and her eyes warmed from stark to compassionate. “That’s not my advice.”

“Fine.” My knee started to bounce. “Let’s hear it.”

“I think . . .” Kaitlyn sucked in another deep breath, held it.

I wished she’d stop trailing off her sentences. “Yes?”

“I think you should kiss her.”

I blinked, confused, and waited for my friend to continue. When she didn’t, I felt my face morph into a scowl. “That’s it? That’s your advice?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the plan?”

“Yep. I think that’s the plan.”

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “I stayed up another hour, telling you everything, spilling my guts, for you to tell me to do something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about in over two years?”

“Exactly.”

Laughing weakly, I shook my head. “What? Why exactly?”

“My God, man. Kiss the woman. Kiss her senseless. Kiss her and mean it.” She waited, looking at me like she expected me to have an ah-ha moment. When I didn’t, she made a short sound of exasperation, adding, “You haven’t kissed her and it’s been over two years. Make a plan to kiss her, and then do it.”

Maybe I was missing the obvious here, maybe I was too tired to be having this conversation. Whatever. I was so tired, my eyelids felt like paper.

“Never mind.” God, I was tired. “I just want to sleep.”

“Yes. You sleep. And then, you wake up, you find Mona, and you kiss her.”

“Sure.” I stood, swayed, and then stumbled to the bed.

“I’m serious, Abram. Follow the plan.” Kaitlyn bumped me out of the way with her hip, pulling down my covers.

“I don’t understand you, Kaitlyn. You’re nuts, and your plan makes no sense.”

“Flatterer. Here, let me tuck you in.”

I practically fell into the bed. “I can tuck myself in.”

“Do you need any warm milk? Should I leave a night-light on?” she fussed, sounding alarmingly like my mother.