A Cosmic Kind of Love(59)

Gulping down the wine, I tried to think of anything else and went with, “I’ve always wanted to go backpacking. I planned to during the summer before my senior year of college.”

“Yeah?” Chris’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to backpack too. Why didn’t you go?”

I shrugged. “Everyone who has ever met me talked me out of it.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because apparently I’m not savvy or responsible enough to take care of myself on a backpacking trip.”

He dropped his fork, his expression disbelieving. “Who the hell said that to you?”

My heart stopped at how annoyed he seemed on my behalf. “Chris, it’s fine. A few friends. My mom. Ex-boyfriends. They kind of laughed at the thought, and when that many people share the same opinion, you start to think maybe they’re right.”

“Or maybe they’re assholes.”

“I do get myself into weird situations sometimes.”

“Hallie.” His tone was hard. “You can do anything you put your mind to. Ignore those so-called friends and family and this bullshit narrative they’re trying to create for you. You are an extremely capable woman. You know you are. Go backpacking if you want to go backpacking. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

Tears rushed into my eyes, and I bowed my head to my plate so he wouldn’t see them. I batted the emotion back, loving him for believing in me and hating him a little for only wanting to be my friend. I wasn’t sure I could handle this. If he’d just stop being so perfect for me, I might be able to deal with the friend-zoning.

“Hallie, are you okay?”

Tears successfully fought back, I looked at him but smiled wearily. “I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I’m still a little upset about the voice mail from my dad.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“You went to all this trouble, and I didn’t want to ruin your last night in the apartment . . . I’m sorry.” I pushed away from the table. “But I think I just need some rest.”

“Of course.” He moved to stand up, but I gestured for him to stop. “Do you want to stay? You can take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

Ugh, stop being so nice! “Nah, I’m going to head home.”

“Right. Let me grab my keys. You’re not taking the subway alone at this hour.”

“Chris, no. I’ll help you clean up, and then I’m going to treat myself to a cab home.”

“You don’t have to help me clean up.”

“No, I—”

“I insist, Hallie. If you’re not feeling yourself, you should go home. Rest up.” He rounded the table, and I braced myself for proximity. Sure enough, he reached out to brush an errant strand of hair behind my ear, and I held back an answering shiver. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can talk about your dad some more if you want?”

Stop it!

I shook my head, my smile tight. “Maybe later.” I reached up to press a swift kiss to his cheek because I didn’t want him to think anything was wrong between us. “I’ll call you.” I hurried around him to swipe my purse off the side table. “Thanks again.”

“Hallie, wait—”

But I was already in the hall, yanking open his apartment door. “Night!”

“Hallie—”

I banged it shut behind me and rushed for the elevator. It was as if the elevator gods were on my side because the doors opened right away and shut just as I heard Chris’s apartment door opening. The elevator descended before he ever made it to me.

Five minutes later, I miraculously grabbed a cab. Once inside the cab, which smelled of Cheetos, holding back my desolation, I rummaged in my purse for my cell to distract myself. Except there was a missed call from Chris, along with a text.

    I’m worried about you. Text me when you get home.



I waited until I was in my apartment, until I’d kicked off my shoes and poured an enormous glass of water to counteract the enormous glass of wine I’d consumed, to text him back.

    I’m sorry for rushing out on you, but I’m fine, I promise. And I’m home. Going to bed. I just need some sleep.



His answering text was instant.

    Sleep well. I’ll call you.



Did I want him to call me?

As I crawled into bed and my tears fell, I considered setting up my laptop so I could pour all my feelings out into a video letter. I hadn’t done that since meeting Chris. Because I’d had the real person to talk to and we had been growing close. Now I couldn’t voice my feelings. Maybe because they felt too big, too dramatic, considering how little time I’d known him.

Yet, I couldn’t remember feeling this bad when any of my boyfriends dumped me, and Chris wasn’t even a boyfriend.

Maybe it would be better to create some distance between us? Give myself some space.

But Chris had called me one of his closest friends.

I couldn’t imagine that wasn’t a big deal for him to admit. It wasn’t something thirty-five-year-old men went around spouting willy-nilly.

My chest ached at the thought of hurting him.

He needed me.

Not in the way I wanted him to, but he still needed me, and he was one of less than a handful of people in my life who treated me with respect and believed in me.