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The dog began to whine.
“Ah. You need to go? You’ve got to hold it, man.” Cornell turned down their street and sped up, prepared to let Mowgli out quickly, but he slowed as they approached the house, seeing a small silver SUV parked in the driveway.
Mowgli barked. “Easy,” Cornell told him, confused as to who would be at his house at seven-thirty at night. The dog barked again as Cornell pulled into the driveway, right into his ear. “God dammit, Mowgli.” He parked alongside the unknown car and opened the door. Mowgli nearly pushed him over as he climbed over the console and jumped out.
And then he heard her voice—sweet and certain. “Oh, I missed you so much.”
Cornell turned, looking over his car.
“Were you a good boy? I’m sorry I was gone so long.”
He watched as Mowgli jumped, forcing her head up, a smile lighting Ali’s face as Mowgli repeatedly nudged against her, his thick tail wagging back and forth.
“Mowgli, easy,” Cornell commanded, stepping around his car. Mowgli might have been an overgrown lap dog, but he didn’t know his own strength. “Sit.”
Ali gently nudged the big dog lower to the ground. “I know. I missed you, too.” She continued to pat and stroke Mowgli and looked up at Cornell. The warmth coming from her eyes stopped him in his tracks—it was familiar but in some ways distant, waning. But when Ali smiled at him, even unsure, it was still there, and that was all that mattered.
Cornell nearly had to pick up his jaw.
“I have no idea where my house keys are.” She shrugged.
“I would’ve—”
“I wanted to surprise you.” Mowgli began to pace between Ali and the house. “Are you hungry? Come on, let’s get you dinner.”
Come here, Cornell wanted to cry out. Please come to me.
Ali stood at the front door, waiting for Cornell to open it. “My mom made us enough food to feed an army. Could you get it?” she asked, turning the knob as he let her pass.
Cornell watched Ali walk inside and looked back at her car, the trunk still open. He grabbed the cooler bags as well as her tote and went back in the house.
“He got bigger,” Ali said sadly, scratching Mowgli’s head as he went to town on the bowl of food she filled.
And you got smaller, Cornell mentally retorted as he placed the bags on the counter, nearly collapsing onto a bar stool. She did, right? He didn’t know how it was possible. Suddenly Mowgli looked twice the size of Ali.
Ali straightened, looking around. “The house looks nice.”
It should look nice, considering Cornell cleaned thoroughly every day—swept and vacuumed floors, wiped counter tops, and stayed on top of the laundry. Just in case she came home unannounced. Just in case he found himself in this exact moment. I wanted it perfect for you. He glanced at the clean kitchen counter and frowned. But I forgot the fucking orchid.
“I wish I knew you were coming,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, watching her closely. “I would’ve gotten you flowers or something.”
Ali turned, slipping her hands into her back pockets. She shook her head. “I don’t need flowers from you.”
Cornell swallowed heavily. “What do you need, Ali?”
Because I don’t know. I don’t know if I should act like nothing happened. I don’t know if I should lie down beside you and hold you while you cry. I’m not sure what you need and it’s killing me. The uncertainty was almost as soul torturing as the news she broke to him earlier, because that was just as gray to Cornell as well.
Ali took two steps closer and then stopped. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and suddenly she looked as unsure as Cornell felt, and that somehow made it all worse. He shifted on the bar stool, fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt before she spoke.
“A hug,” Ali told him softly, in a way that twisted his already aching heart and released it all in the same breath. “I need a hug.”
Cornell unfolded his arms. “Come here.”
Her steps weren’t hesitant, only slow. Too slow. Cornell wanted to stand, reach out, grab Ali, and crush her into him. But he waited for her—he knew he would need to wait for her. And when Ali stepped between his legs and lifted her arms to wrap them around Cornell’s neck, he knew he would wait forever. Because an embrace like that was worth an eternity.
Between the accident and her requested distance, it had been so long since Cornell just held Ali, and he almost expected it to feel different. And while Ali did feel different—smaller, more fragile—she also felt the same. Her floral scent tickled his nose, her silky hair so soft Cornell wanted to wrap himself in it. It was somehow painful but in the most beautiful way. Ali reaching out for him was like a blow to—and through—the chest, as if she had somehow worked her way deep inside of him to hug his heart.
Ali’s petite frame shook against him as he folded his arms around her, still trying to hold back out of fear that she might still be hurting. But she pressed herself entirely against him, burying her face into his neck. “I just needed a minute,” she whispered against his skin. “I’m really so sorry.”
