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“There was a time where so many movies had your name attached to it in one way or another,” I joke.
“I drowned myself in work after you left me in that hotel room. I wanted to find you, to make you hear reason, but I wanted to respect your justified anger.”
We fill in each other’s blanks, longing letters of love that were never sent. Feelings that were never acknowledge and perspectives that were never given the chance to be explained.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he continues to stare at our hands, our fingers entwined much like our lives have continued to be.
“Me too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
MY HAPPY ENDING
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Idon’t think I’m ready,” I whisper, smoothing my hands over my black dress, the neckline high enough to be modest. “You think you are?”
I glance over at Abraham through the mirror as he watches me fidget, nervous. But, as always, he’s relaxed. I wish I could borrow that from him.
“I’ve waited this long,” he tells me, offering an uptick of the ends of his lips. “I don’t mind waiting longer if you need more time.” He stands, and in his slacks and sweater he looks closer to the professor I once fell in love with. When he stands behind me, I lean back, laying my head back on him.
“No, I don’t want you to wait anymore. Six months is enough,” I tell him, clasping my hands together as if to punctuate the finality of my words.
His hands meet my shoulders as he corrects me. “Six years is more like it.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head and I close my eyes a moment.
“You know what I mean,” I clarify with a chuckle. “You’vebeen in Boston for six months. You’ve been waiting to meet Penny for six months.”
“And Jilly,” he reminds me as he takes a step back, glancing at his watch. “And if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late.”
I do a quick mental check. Purse? Check. Phone? Check. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check.
“Come on, beautiful girl,” he calls out from his place by the bedroom door. I cross the room in a hurry, careful to watch my step as we walk out into the hallway.
“You have your keys?” I ask, running my hand over my hair before feeling for both of my earrings.
As is habit, I stare at my hands for a moment I suddenly feel off kilter, like I’m missing something. And then I catch myself.
Even months after our divorce has been finalized, I keep looking down for my ring and feeling a moment’s panic when I don’t see it anymore.
That ring is now in a small box in my apartment, awaiting the day one of my girls will need it. Peter and I came to that conclusion together over dinner alone, the night our divorce came through.
It’d been a show of faith, cementing the nonexistence of bad blood between us.
“I do,Stellina,” he reassures me, taking my ringless hand in his as he leads us to the front door and we step out of his apartment. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s okay if we’re late,” I start but he shakes his head as he damn near drags me down the hall to the elevators.
“Not when I want to make a good first impression. Our reservation is at seven. We said we’d be there at six-thirty to pick them up.” He shakes his free hand, staring at the watch on his wrist again. Gone is the relaxed man and in his place is a man who has no idea what he’s walking into. And I get it.Kids are scary, even for someone who spit a couple of them out.
“I know you’re nervous, Abraham,” I attempt to soothe his nerves. “It’s okay.” My voice is low as I turn to face him, my hand on his arm.
He doesn’t look at me for a moment, staring at the numbers climb as the elevator rises to the highest level, where his apartment is located. When he finally does, his eyes are glassy.
“What if they don’t like me?”
This is a far cry from the man who wroteI don’t carein large words on a blackboard all those years ago.
“Jilly will love you immediately,” I reassure him, knowing that for the most part, my kids are easy. “Penny will probably take time.” I don’t want him to think it’s going to be easy, winning her over. Some days she doesn’t even likeme.
