Page 66 of Best Man Speaking

I tense at the question, quickly glancing over to ensure Julian’s occupied. “Why would I do that?”

“You can pretend all you like, but there’s no way you’d be contemplating staying here if things were going terribly between the two of you.”

“That doesn’t equate to a great reason to stay.”

“Hallie, you’re being obtuse.” Erica’s words aren’t harsh or blunt, but I can feel it as my eyes go wide with the direct hit of truth. It takes all of my power to keep my hand in hers. The urge to pull away and curl in is strong, but it’s not what I want and definitely not what I need.

“Ouch. Way to call a girl out.”

“He doesn’t know how you feel, then?” she asks more gently, as if she’s coaxing a wounded animal.

“No, I’m not really sure how I feel.”

“About him or about staying?”

I shrug. “Both.”

It’d be so much easier if I could put all my cards on the table and be honest with Erica and Jules and clear the air with Marcus, but as long as I want to enjoy the physicality of our relationship, there’s no talking about the past. I’m a little worried that once we start to talk, there’ll be no way to retain what we have now.

“How you felt about him previously was enough to make you run.”

I can’t stop the way my shoulders stiffen at the statement, regardless of the lack of judgment in Erica’s words.

“It wasn’t running. He was an asshole and didn’t want me—it was self-preservation,” I say defensively, taking offense at the insinuation. The fact that there’s potential truth to it means nothing.

“Well, the picture you sent me from the table last night made things look pretty cozy. The way you two looked together isn’t something I’d want to run from.” She watches me carefully. “Hal, if you wanted to leave, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

I think of the photo of Marcus and me for the hundred millionth time today. We’d taken it on his phone, and he’d sent it to me. After forwarding it to Erica, I hesitated over deleting it, saving it instead. At least for now. No one would know I had it, that I’d kept it, and yet I’m horrified at the thought of someone seeing it, which is completely ridiculous.

“I wouldn’t be running,” I say, the words real enough to ring true to my own ear.

“No. You’d be flying, but I’m not talking specifics and logistics,” Erica replies, shutting me down and causing a small smile to touch my lips.

“Hallie, when you leave this time, it won’t be because you’re young and scared. It won’t be the same, and that’s okay. It’ll be a real choice you make, a choice with pros and cons, and even then, it doesn’t mean you can’t come back. Forget Marcus for a second—he can be the cherry on top of whatever you choose. What is it you want?”

Like that’s an easy question to answer. There are so many things I want, but I narrow them down to one. The single thing I wanted when I arrived here just a few weeks ago. “I want something that’s mine, that I get to call home.”

What Erica doesn’t understand is it’s not that I didn’t think I could come back; it’s that I hoped I wouldn’t want to. I hoped to be happy, content, and fulfilled with whatever home I built for myself so the past would stop trying to pull me back.

Erica’s thoughtful. “I know everyone has a different interpretation of what home means to them, of what it looks like and feels like, be it a place or people. I just want you to remember you don’t need to live at home. Sometimes it can be enough to know where it is—to simply visit and let yourself rest in the place your heart resides for a little while. If you’re not ready to make any big decisions, you don’t need to. Sell the house, don’t sell it, stay or leave—you’re allowed to change your mind.”

I swallow, easing the burning in my throat her words have caused. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“To be honest? When I started to stand still. If you’re not ready to be still yet, to pull up roots, or to pick a new place to put roots down, it’s okay. There’ll always be a home for you here.”

“I…thank you,” I scrape out. The coffee shop and the other customers around us, have all blurred into the background while we spoke.

“You still want something that’s yours, though, don’t you?” she asks.

“I really do.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re looking for me to tell you, but the fact you’ve made your way back here is one thing; the enjoyment you’re finding with Marcus is another. Shoot your shot, Hal. What’s the worst that can happen? If it’s fun for now, so be it, and if it’s more? Well, that’s cool, too. Don’t let fear rule you.”

As Erica gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading back to work, I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. Because the rush to make all my decisionsnow, that’s self-inflicted. That’s fear.

I’ll shoot my shot. I’ll go for what I want, for better or worse.

Taking my phone from my handbag, I dial the realtor’s number, and before I can think any more about it, I agree to accept the highest offer.

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