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“My best friend barging into my apartment without knocking. Wawa runs at midnight. Knowing where everything is without having to think about it.”
Tyler huffs out a laugh.
“Wawa’s hard to beat.”
“You know Wawa?”
“I’m from Boston, Darcy, not another planet.”
I shove his arm playfully.
“Anything you don’t miss?”
Tyler swirls his wine.
Old me would’ve deflected. Made a joke. Changed the subject before the conversation got anywhere near the truth. Years of practice had made me very good at that.
I stare down into my wine for a second before answering.
“The version of me who apologized all the time.”
Tyler is quiet for a moment. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me keep going.
“West Chester started to feel…” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Small.”
His expression doesn’t change.
“Small how?”
“Like I was spending more time managing my life than actually living it.”
The words roll off my tongue in relief.
“Every one of my choices turned into a discussion.” I shake my head. “It got to the point where I couldn’t tell if I actually wanted something or if I just got tired of arguing for it.”
“That’s a shitty feeling.”
“It was.”
The answer comes easier than I expect.
Maybe because Tyler isn’t trying to rescue me from it. He just listens in a way that makes the silence feel comfortable instead of awkward.
“You don’t seem small here.”
I look up.
“How do I seem?”
His mouth curves.
“Sharp.”
I snort.
“That’s diplomatic.”
Tyler sets his bowl on the coffee table and turns toward me.
