Page 11 of Lovestrung

“No, it’s not.”

I crossed my arms and jutted out my hip.

“Well, then, I think you owe me an apology.”

He sighed as he scowled.

“I apologize for the way I spoke to you, but I still stand by everything I said.”

“Why? Why don’t you believe me – or Gramps, for that matter? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“Why aren’t I allowed to be worried about you? Come on, Penelope.”

I let out a small gasp when he used my real name. A name I detested and had refused to answer to for over a decade.

“Don’t call me that,” I gritted out. “You know I hate it.”

He frowned at me. “I’ve never understood why,” he murmured softly. “It suits you.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he ignored me.

“Pippa is the name of a little girl. One who doesn’t want to grow up.” Slowly, he took a step toward me, keeping his serious gaze locked on mine. I hardly dared to breathe as he came closer until he stopped right in front of me. “You’re right,” he whispered. “You’re definitely not a child anymore.”

I bit my lip, afraid I’d blurt out something ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing, if he kept looking at me like that.

“Where have you been?” I whispered. “You were my best friend, Ethan. Why did you disappear?”

I swallowed the thickness in my throat. “Is it because I tried to kiss you five years ago? Because,” I hurried on when he sighed, “if that’s why, then I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“It has nothing to do with what happened back then,” he sighed, frustration exuding from his gaze. “If it did, don’t you think that I’d have found a way to disappear entirely before twelve months ago?”

A sense of exhaustion came over me, and I rubbed a hand over my eyes.

“You’re not making any sense.”

I looked back at him and wanted to cry when a sad smile crept over his lips.

“I know,” he whispered. “You’re better off not knowing. But…” He lifted his right hand and brushed a wayward tear away from my cheek. “I’m sorry I hurt you by staying away. That was never meant to happen.”

Desperate, I tried not to lean into his hand, but it was hard not to give in.

I smiled tentatively at him. “Can we go back to the way we were?”

Please say yes.

He shook his head, sadness marring his beautiful lips as he attempted a smile.

“I don’t think we can go back.” The wistfulness in his voice made my heart crack. “But we can go forward, Penelope.” He pushed his hands in his pocket and finally took a step away, giving me my personal space back.

Relieved, I breathed deeply and thought about what he’d said.

“I think I can live with that,” I smiled up at him. “On one condition.”

He shrugged. “And what’s that?”

“That you stop calling me Penelope.”

He frowned as he scratched the stubble on his chin.