“Oh.” The single sound seems to go on forever. “You live in New York?”
I’m sure he knew this. “Yeah. I mean, I go back. And forth. But. Here. Mainly. A week a month at Papa’s. So, yeah. New York.” Are you there, God? It’s me, the girl who cannot form a sentence to save my life. What is wrong with me?!
“Well, shit.” He’s quiet a breath. “See what I mean? I didn’t even know that. I knew you flew in from New York before Katie’s party, but then I saw you at your grandpa’s, so I assumed... I don’t know what I assumed. There’s so much I don’t know…”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I tell him, anxiety crawling through my chest, “I can fly down—”
“You don’t have to—”
“No. I will.” It’s the least I can do. I’m already tapping at my keyboard, looking at flights. “When are you free?”
“During the week, I’m in Charlotte.”
“Well, I usually fly into Charlotte, so that works.”
He clears his throat, and I imagine him standing, leaning against something, looking down at the ground, his legs crossed at the ankles. “So… when’s the earliest you can get here?”
“I mean, technically, I could get there tonight.”
“That works.”
“Really?”
“I’ll text you my address.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Leo
I am… screwed.
I woke up this morning, and the first thing on my mind was Benny. The second was Mia. It was the same way it’s been ever since I found out. While in the shower, I somehow convinced myself that today would be the day I’d call, and I’d tell her how I felt. Kind of. Yes, I wanted Mia to trust me with something so important to her, especially since my go-to reaction to extreme life-changing news is to run like a little bitch. But, I was also fighting my own internal demons. Guilt was one of them—that shitty motherfucker. And the other was the question of my self-worth. Because the truth is—I’m not ready. I’m literally in my third week of the police academy, and sure, I have a job lined up for me once I graduate—if I graduate—but that asshole sweater-vest was right. Law enforcement pays shit. And I know it’s not about the money because Mia’s dad is loaded, but he’s not Benny’s father.
I am.
There’s also that little problem of me still living in my childhood home. Because that screams parenthood. Not.
I’m twenty-three years old, and I thought I was on track, and now I’m at a crossroads, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
And all of this doesn’t even include the questions of what happens after.
I have so many questions, and they’ve all been trapped in my head for eleven days with just me, myself, and I to come up with answers. Only I don’t have them. Mia does. And so I asked her to meet me. And now she’s on her way, and
I.
Am.
Screwed.
I ponder exactly how screwed I am as I close the fridge door, realizing I have absolutely nothing to actually serve her for the dinner she flew in to attend. I eat grilled chicken and steamed vegetables every night, and it’s not exactly… exactly what? Romantic? That’s not what I’m going for, I think. What do you serve someone when you don’t care if they like what they eat because you just want them to talk, tell you every detail of the past five years, and how they envisage the next five years?
I’m overthinking it. I know I am. But before I can over-overthink it, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s Mia. And she’s right outside.
Clutching an overnight bag in both hands, Mia stands in the foyer of the apartment complex in a dark gray sweater, a pair of black jeans with rips on the thighs, and black heels. Air gets trapped in my chest when she first turns to me, those light brown eyes a contrast to what she’s wearing. Her hair is down today, waves upon waves, and there are a lot of things I wasn’t prepared for tonight. Seeing her in person is definitely one of them.
She smiles, and it’s like a valve in my throat, releasing the air slowly. “Hi,” she says, raising a hand.
“Hey.” I’m in gray sweatpants and a navy-blue shirt I’ve had for eleventy-three years, and I feel inadequate as I walk toward her, taking her bag from her. “I’m up on the