Page 102 of Lost Love on 6th Street

“Luke!”

I shove the unopened letter in my back pocket, clap the lockbox shut, and throw it back into the packing material. “Yeah?!”

I hear her footsteps on the ladder. “You hungry?”

Shoving the box into the back where it belongs, I call out. “I could eat!”

Mom is moving slowly, so thankfully I’m able to head her off at the pass before she can climb into the attic. She smiles at me. “I just took a meatloaf out of the oven. Your favorite.”

Staring down into my mom’s face, the tears threaten to return. The story of our family—of my father—what is it really?

Do I even want to know?

Miraculously, I manage to push away the thoughts of my father and Diane while I enjoy lunch with my mother. It’s not until I climb into my car that they all hit me at once.

Still nothing from Eleanor. And maybe it’s for the best. Because my world just flipped upside down.

I don’t have it in me to remain silent, though. So, I send her a text.

I’m sorry I changed our history. It’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

33

ELEANOR

Luke’s text circles in my head throughout the entire workweek.

I never replied to it. And he never texted again.

I’m starting to miss him. In fact, I’ve missed him since he left my apartment. But I’m not ready to forgive. Not entirely.

“He wanted you so bad that he did anything to get you! Isn’t that beautiful?” Jolene says over lunch on Friday when she finally gets the full story out of me.

“Maybe in a rom-com, but not in real life,” I reply.

Which is true. The compliment is lost when there’s a red flag waving in my face.

I’m a little surprised he hasn’t been trying harder to get my attention. On one hand, I respect it, and on the other, I’m annoyed. Grovel! Fight for me! Find me! Show up at my window with a boombox overhead!

Scratch that last one. That’s not romantic, either. That’s just creepy. It's great in a movie, though.

“Okay, but like, the lie is really harmless at the end of the day,” Jolene says.

“Maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t. He kept up that lie for a while. What happens when it’s actually something that could really hurt?” Make no mistake, this really hurts. But I can acknowledge it’s not the same as cheating, and it’s not violence.

Jolene sighs, chewing a big bite of Caesar salad. Once she gulps it down, she rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, no one is perfect.”

“True.”

“And like, he’s perfect in every other way, right?”

I raise my eyebrows in agreement. “I feel like I have a scale in my brain that I keep adding weights to, trying to see if the bad outweighs the good.”

“And?”

I shake my head. “Why are women always having to settle? Why do we always have to put up with—”

“Eleanor. What’s the scale actually saying?”

---