Life In Reverse(78)

I watch the train pull away, the numbers and his face getting further and further until I can no longer see them. My legs buckle and I wrench my hand out to latch onto a filthy column, thankful for it because it’s the only thing holding me up right now. I don’t understand what’s happening. Yet my only clear thought is making sure I don’t forget that number. Unzipping my purse, I scrounge for a pen and with trembling fingers scrawl out the numbers on a scrap of paper. Tears are falling faster than I can write. But the urgency to get the numbers down tells me that my internal talk this morning and everything I said to Avery was not the truth. Because the truth is—I’ve never gotten over Vance Davenport.

How do you ever get over your heart?





THE REST OF the day went by in a blur of numbers and silvery blue eyes I’ve tried hard to forget. The look I saw in them today, raw and vulnerable. A myriad of emotions passing over his face that I couldn’t understand—that I had no right to, really. And still, they yanked on my heart.

So many questions flitting through my mind as I sit on the bed, staring blankly at those ten numbers. What is he doing in New York? How long has he been here? Why didn’t he try to get in touch with me?

I fall back on the mattress, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under my chin. It’s been three years. Three years of working hard to erase Vance from my heart. But the only thing seeing him did was make it start beating again.

“Hey, Em, I’m home,” Avery calls out, and I groan an unintelligible response that she can’t hear. I listen to her keys clank when they drop on the table, heels clicking until she’s at my door. She analyzes my position on the bed with a frown. “What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for tonight? I just bought the most amazing dress at Bloomingdale’s.” The bag crinkles in her hand. “Wanna see?” I grunt and push myself up to a slouched sitting position, continuing to squeeze the pillow. I’m not sure what will happen if I let it go.

“Ember.” She snaps her fingers in front of my face. It’s only then that I become aware she’s standing beside the bed.

My gaze remains on the wall. “I’m not going tonight. I told Grant I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Actually, you don’t look that good.” She leans over and presses her palm to my forehead. “You don’t feel hot but you’re pale as a ghost.”

What a perfect choice of words. Because I saw a ghost. The one that haunts my dreams, strokes my cheek and threads his fingers through my hair, whose touch I can still feel on my skin.

“I saw one,” I admit, still dazed but finally able to look at her. “I saw Vance.”

Her brows lift high on her forehead. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, Em.” She drops down on the bed. “But how, where?”

“He was on the subway. I saw him as I was getting off. We didn’t talk because I almost fell and… the shock of it all… and then the train left.” I blow out a weighted breath. “And now I’m a mess. I’ve tried so hard to forget him and move on. But the minute I saw him, it was like nothing had changed. All those intense feelings came back.” Her glance roams to the paper on the bed. “He wrote his phone number down and held it against the glass.”

“Wow.” A soft smile forms on her lips. “Thank goodness for little things like a photographic memory.”

“Yeah.” I bring a hand to my head to stave off the impending ache. “Do you know what I thought about all day?” I don’t wait for an answer because I need to keep talking. I need to get this out. “That if I hadn’t turned around right then, I never would’ve seen him.”

Avery closes her hand around mine and gives me a gentle squeeze. “And how did that make you feel?”

My mouth tugs down as my chin begins to wobble. “Awful. Because as startled as I was to see him, I realized how much I needed it… to know that he’s okay.”

“You need to call him. You know that, right?” She lets go of my hand and reaches behind her to retrieve the wrinkled square of paper. “You two have so much left unsaid.”

Tears that have hovered all day like a dark cloud break free. “I’m afraid to see him. I… I’m good now, happy… and I can’t go back.”

“Oh, Ember.” She slides a tissue from the box on the nightstand and hands it to me. “One of the many things I love about you is that you’re always honest. Don’t start lying to yourself now. It doesn’t become you. Besides,” she adds, patting my hand, “you don’t have to go back. But maybe you can get some closure so you can move forward.” She leaps off the bed, the Bloomingdale’s bag swinging from her fingers. “Now. I’m going to put on this dress, find a movie, two spoons, and a half-gallon of ice cream,” she grins, “because I refuse to let a good dress go to waste.”

She’s almost to the door when I call her back. “Hey, Ave,” I say faintly, and she glances over her shoulder. “Thank you.” She nods on a soft smile then saunters off.

My mind wanders to Vance again. I don’t know that much about love, except what he taught me. That it’s a quiet voice, a short distance between two hearts. Or maybe it’s a flame that flickers then dies out.