Page 87 of The Sun and Her Star

I whisper my own apology. I’m so ashamed of myself. That in all this time, I haven’toncepicked up the phone to check on his mother. I walked away from him when he had been in the middle of what Iknewwas the biggest struggle of his life. I checked stupid online web magazines to get my updates.

What kind of person did that to the person who saved her life in more ways than one? Because he couldn’t give me what I wanted? I’d forgotten that Graham and I were more than that. Even after I named my gallery after us. My Instagram handle, the tattoo on my ribcage—they all said I knew that this star was my universe and that I was his. Yet, I’d let my wounded pride stop me from being what I’d promised.

His friend. Always.

What if this call had been from his mother, telling me that Graham had died? The thought is unbearable.

There’s a knock on the door, and it takes me a second to remember that Lucas is locked out of our bedroom.

I walk over and answer it.

His eyes widen in alarm as he looks at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go to a hotel,” I say numbly. The phone is still pressed to my ear.

“What are you talking about? Ahotel?” He steps back and looks me up and down. “Who are you talking to? What happened?” He looks horrified, and I know I owe him a tremendous apology. More than that. Right now, though, I just need to be alone. With Graham.

“Not now. I’ll call you. I’m so sorry.” I press a soft kiss to his lips, grab my wallet and keys, and I walk out.

I walk to the corner of West 117thStreet and Frederick Douglas. It’s almost two in the morning, and the streets are teeming with people. I stand in front of the Rite Aid and stick my thumb out while I strain to hear Graham over the sounds of traffic and people.

I jump in the first taxi that stops and ask him to take me to The Viceroy Central Park. I’m listening to Graham snore when another call comes through.

It’s Lucas. I decline the call.

I put the phone back to my ear, lean back into the taxi and watch as we crawl down Columbus Avenue toward mid-town. The sounds of traffic, squeaking brakes, the constant honking of horns invade the taxi. Yet, Graham’s deep, slow breathing is the only sound I pay any attention to.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice comes from the other end of the phone. I pull it away from my ear in surprise and stare at the screen for a second as I try to make sense of the interruption. My stomach drops as realization sinks in.

“Apollo?” she asks when I don’t answer. “It’s Amber,” she says tentatively. Hearing her name strikes like a sharp-edged steel blade against the flint like covetous jealousy that lives in my heart.

I push it away. I have no right to it. Not anymore. Like the rest of the world, I counted their dates. After the third one, I’d gotten drunk and asked Lucas to move in with me. Ofcourse,she’s in Graham’s room. They’re probably live together.

Reluctantly, I put the phone back to my ear and force words out of my suddenly dry mouth. “Hi, yes, it’s Apollo. I’m sorry. I’m just so tired,” I lie. Tired is the last thing I feel now. My heart is thudding in my chest.

“I’m so happy you called. I’ve been so worried about Graham,” she speaks in a hushed tone. Hearing her say his name with so much intimacy … hurts. It feels like my heart is on fire inside of my chest.

“Yeah, I bet,” I force out.

“He’s sleeping,” she says.

“I know …” I tell her.

“Oh, my goodness. You’ve been on the phone with him for … two hours and thirty minutes?”

“I’m sorry … he asked me to call, I didn’t mean to—”

“This isn’t the time. Not even close. But, I can tell you need to hear it,” she says cryptically.

“Hear what?” I demand brusquely. I just want to open the door and go to Graham.

Her speech is very direct and unnerving because I feel like she knows more about me than I would want to her to. “I love Graham. Very much,” she says slowly, like she wants to make sure I understand each word before she moves on to the next one. “We’ve become—”

“It’s okay.” My interruption is brusque, and I’m mortified by how transparent I am. “You don’t have to—” I start.

“I do. I don’t want you to feel anything less than welcome or to let anything keep you from being here for Graham however you need to be.” Her voice is full of meaning I can’t decipher. “He’s going to need you.”

I’m tired and confused, but I can recognize the extraordinary grace this woman has just shown. She must love Graham a lot. The thought, strangely, settles something inside of me. And rather than jealousy, I feel a swell of gratitude that he has been in such good hands. He deserves to be loved so completely. I wish the privilege was mine, but I can’t be anything but glad that he’s had this.

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