Life In Reverse(72)

Buildings zip by in a blur of memories as I stare out the window. “It’s a big city, Chris.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He sighs, the air heavy between us. “You can’t keep doing this, you know? I get it, you w-walked away. And I’m not going to judge you and say whether it was right or wrong. It was all you could handle at the time.” He grips my shoulder and I’m forced to turn around. “But your father has paid for what he did with your silence, and well, so have you. Ember’s gone on with her life. You’re the only one who hasn’t. You’ve been punishing yourself for freaking everything. You don’t even have symptoms anymore for f-f*ck’s sake. You may never have any more symptoms. Jesus, Vance. Let it go. Just let it all go.”

Deep down, I know Chris is right. Yet somewhere below the surface, where everything isn’t as clear and Ember’s face is all I see—I can’t let her go.





“I WANT TO marry you,” Grant breathes into my neck, peppering kisses along my skin.

“We’re in a taxi,” I laugh, “and that’s the most unromantic wedding proposal I’ve ever heard.”

He whips his head back and glares at me, hope springing to life in his eyes. “Are you saying if I change venues you’ll consider it?”

“Grant.” I sigh, frustrated more with myself than with him. He’s a great guy and I’m an idiot. “We’re too young.”

“Wait a minute.” The cab pulls to a stop in front of my building and he reaches over to pay the fare. He doesn’t miss a beat though. As soon as we step out onto the sidewalk, he continues his tirade. “Let me get this straight. First it’s the location, and now it’s our ages. Which is it?” A frown tugs on one side of his mouth as he holds the glass door open. “Or, is it just that you don’t want to marry me?”

“Look, Grant.” I pause in the center of the lobby, inspecting the floor for an answer that won’t make him feel bad. “I’m just really tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Okay.” My gaze lifts and he cups my cheek with a soft smile. “I don’t mean to push, I just love you, you know.” His eyes search mine and I know he’s waiting for me to say the words, but I’m not ready. I can’t admit to something that I don’t feel. It’s not who I am. The silence lengthens and he exhales a deep sigh. “Come on then. I’ll walk you up.”

We step off the elevator, his fierce attention making me want to climb the walls. With any luck, Avery will be home. All I want right now is to hang out with my sister and eat ice cream straight out of the carton.

The door clicks open and I let out an easy breath the moment I cross the threshold. I love our apartment. Avery and I wanted it to be simple, yet comfortable. And it is. With a little help from Mom, we chose to paint the walls in a light sage green and picked out two oversized buttery leather sofas, the focal point of the living room. An old, refurbished trunk sits between them that Avery discovered at this great vintage furniture shop in Midtown.

The scent of my favorite cinnamon apple candles slides under my nose and I inhale with a smile. From the looks of things, Avery must have felt guilty about our earlier argument regarding her messiness. Clothes that were hanging over chairs and shopping bags left on the carpet are gone. The faint sound of music flows out from her room and I breathe a muffled sigh of relief.

“Would you mind if I have a nightcap before I go?” Grant asks, and I direct my irritation toward the ceiling.

“Sure.” I drop my coat on the sofa, then breeze past my favorite Mickey Mouse painting I bought from a street vendor last year. “Is wine okay? We don’t have much else,” I mention as Grant follows me to the kitchen. The space is not small by any stretch, with two walls of cabinets and a miniature farm-style table, but his six foot two frame suddenly makes me feel claustrophobic.

“It’s great.” He hovers over me as I pour the wine into a glass. “Thanks, babe.”

I sneak around him, failing to understand what my problem is. I’m… antsy, and want to run around and throw open the windows to breathe in the outside air. “I’ll be right back. Just want to use the bathroom.”

“Okay, babe.”

Behind the safety of the closed door, I draw in a breath then let it out. Then I head straight for the sink, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on my face. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me tonight, but I don’t feel like myself. Maybe it’s Grant’s insistence on the whole marriage thing, I don’t know. How can you want to marry someone who hasn’t even told you they love you? I don’t get it. Beyond that, I realize we’ve been friends for almost a year and a half, and dating several months. Maybe that should be enough.

Patting my face dry with a nearby towel, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. The green eyes that stare back at me are dull, my cheeks paler than usual. Regardless, I steady myself with a big breath and traipse back out to the living room. I’m planning to ask Grant if we can call it a night when I freeze, my legs nearly buckling beneath me.

“Put that down.” The words come out much harsher than I intended. Grant flinches, immediately setting my book on the table. I can’t believe I forgot to put it away.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I was just—”