back, that you’re making decisions without even so much as consulting me? Hiding things from me? Running away?”
“He wouldn’t be proud of the way I’ve handled things. No. But people make mistakes. Even you, Mom. I’m going to make a million more mistakes. And some of the risks won’t pay off. But it’s better than being afraid, of not taking the leap, of being so scared of consequences that you never even try to make a move.”
Chris moves into the corner of the room to give us space. She’s silent for a long time before she turns back to me. She shakes her head one last time before patting my hand.
“Please tell me that you’ve registered for enough credits so that your graduation won’t be delayed.”
It’s a minor victory.
“I have.”
“And what are these credits, if I may ask?”
“I’m taking statistics, just like you wanted, an art history class in place of the one I was going to take this semester anyway, sociolinguistics, psychology, and French.”
She nods. “The psychology class will be good for your psyche. It might help you to understand why risk-taking behavior is so prevalent among eighteen-year-olds.”
It’s a little dig, but as she grabs my chin and looks into my eyes, I see fear, not censure, there.
“I want daily phone calls. Daily. Do you understand what that means? You need to call me every day. Not once a week, or never. Every. Single. Day.”
I grin. “You got it. Every day. Daily phone calls.”
“I don’t approve of this little jaunt to Europe. I want you to hear me loudly and clearly—you’re making a life decision with serious ramifications, Hallie Viola Caldwell. And I think it’s a poor one. But only time will tell that. And thankfully, time is something that you have a lot of, baby.”
She runs her fingers through her closely cropped blond hair to smooth it before turning to give Chris a malicious little smile.
“Mr. Jensen, while doing my research, I saw that you took a course in anthropology at that fancy high school of yours. I have to admit, that field has always held a special interest for me. Mind regaling me with some of your knowledge over lunch?”
He glances at me, and I give him a very small nod.
“I would be happy to, Mrs. Caldwell. We have about three hours before the car comes for us, and that should be enough time to tell you about some of the theories that I like best. And those that I don’t.”
She smiles slightly and raises her eyebrows at me before turning back to Chris. Because I know exactly what’s coming, I groan inwardly and close my eyes.
“You can call me Dr. Caldwell, Mr. Jensen. I think it might be a few millennia before we address each other in more familiar terms. Archaeology might have been a better field of study for you, now that I think about it. Now, Hallie, I’ve had far too much take-out since you went away to school. Go make yourself useful while Mr. Jensen and I have a little debate.”
With a mock-sympathetic look at Chris, I exit the room, laughing a little bit to myself.
After all, he was the one who insisted on meeting my mother. I know he was hoping for baby pictures, but my guess is that they aren’t coming out anytime soon.
* * *
7 Years Later
New York
I’ve made a lot of life decisions with serious ramifications. Willingly making the choice to fall back into the wreck of Chris and me is one that I won’t be able to take back.
I never wanted him to see me like this. I never wanted anyone to see me like this.
It’s no longer a matter of what I want.
Just what I need.
I fall into his arms, no longer able to resist seeing if the real-life version of him can compete with my memories.
Chapter 6
CHRIS
Her fingers grip my neck, and she clings to me. No words seem right enough to actually put voice to, so I lift her into my arms and hope that it’s enough.
I try to breathe in and out slowly, but she must feel the quickening of my chest. Then again, maybe not. She’s oblivious to the man who emerges from his room, the way that his eyes widen with a flicker of recognition as he looks at me. I reach into her bag, praying that she still keeps the key in its own compartment, a habit that was particularly useful when we had banged mindlessly into a hundred different hotel