Bet on It (83)

Her hand curled around the doorknob, ready to check for herself, when he spoke.

“I deserve that.” His voice was muffled through the door, and she pressed her ear to it to hear him better. “Hell, I deserve worse. But … but I … I had to try, Aja. I had to come to you and try, to see if you could forgive me for behavin’ the way I did and hurtin’ you in the process.”

“Walker, I…” Her head rushed with thoughts, every last one moving too fast for her to convey verbally.

“Just … I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I brought you a cobbler from Minnie’s. I guess … I guess I wanted to get you a gift or somethin’. Even if you never want to talk to me again, I want you to have the cobbler.”

The only issue was that she did want to talk to him again. Very much. But she didn’t know if her anger and confusion would allow her to. Let alone her pride. He’d hurt her, and she didn’t know if she could trust him not to do it again. And if she couldn’t, what use would it be to let him in at all?

“Look, I’m goin’ to set the cobbler in front of the door, and I’ll take three steps back into the hall. I’ll give it a minute, and if you don’t open the door to get your cobbler, I’ll take it with me and leave and … and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I’m puttin’ the box down now,” he said when she refused to make a sound. “And I’m stepping back.…”

She counted the seconds in her head, trying to use the other parts of her brain to debate if she should open the door or let him walk out of her life entirely. By the time she got to fifty-two, she’d made no real decision. At least not until she twisted the lock on the door and pulled it open to find him still standing there.

The breath he released was palpable in its relief.

“Hi,” he said slowly, almost in awe.

Her jaw tightened. Laying eyes on him again brought back the anger, the hurt. But there was something else there too. The very same love that she’d been so close to admitting months before. It hadn’t gone away, not even in the face of her suffering. The same lips that had been so callous in their good-bye had kissed hope back into her body. The same body that had run away from her had held her close, gently, like she was something precious, something to be sure and careful with. How in the hell was she supposed to reconcile one with the other?

“Hi,” she choked out, bending down to pick up the box of cobbler.

“Aja…”

“What?” she snapped.

“I don’t want to leave. I … I don’t want to give up yet.”

“What if I want you to give up? What if I already know that I want to be done with you?”

Walker hung his head, broad shoulders slumping along with it. She could practically hear his jaw grinding from across the hall. “I’ll have to respect that then … no matter how much it—”

“How much it what, Walker? How much it sucks to have to face the consequences of your actions?”

“No.” He shook his head, looking like he wanted to come to her. But his feet stayed planted. “How much it sucks to stand here, lookin’ in your eyes, seein’ how much I hurt you. I’m at your doorstep like a goddamn fool, beggin’ you for a second chance, knowin’ damn well that if you say no, it’ll be what I deserve.”

“You deserve a lot worse than that. You deserve a swift kick in the nuts.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t built on humor. It was wry and self-deprecating.

“I’d gladly take one”—he spread his arms—“if it gets me closer to earning your forgiveness.”

Her head had started to hurt, and her eyes stung. She wanted to cry. Then she wanted to lie down and pretend like none of this was happening. Like Walker Abbott had never come back to Greenbelt, and she’d never met him, and he’d never made her fall in love with him. His leaving wouldn’t have hurt if it hadn’t felt so much like abandonment.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Walker.… Don’t … I don’t know what the hell I want right now.”

“What if … what if I sat right here until you figured it out?” He pointed to the dirty linoleum floor next to her door. “I don’t care how long it takes. Hours, days, whatever. I’ll sit right here and wait for you. Just like I made you wait for me.…”

Torn between not wanting to let him in and not wanting him to leave, his suggestion seemed like the best option. Torturous, for sure, but maybe he was right. Maybe he did deserve a taste of his own medicine.

“Fine.” She nodded. “I’m going in now.… I’ll … we’ll see.…”

She didn’t stick around to watch him settle in, fearful that if she hesitated, she’d change her mind. She locked the door when she got inside, placing the cobbler box on her kitchen counter but making no move to open it.

Knowing that Walker sat right outside her door made it nearly impossible to focus. She tried to sort laundry but ended up abandoning the activity halfway through when the tedium of it became maddening. She sat down at her desk, figuring she could at least answer some work emails, but the walls of her apartment were thin, and she heard Walker shifting around outside, no doubt trying to get comfortable. It didn’t matter how loud she turned her music up, she was too aware that she wasn’t alone. Not really.