Page 118 of The Comeback Summer

I’d be happy to introduce you to another publicist or an event planner who can step in and see the next three events through to completion.

Again, I’m sorry, and I’m grateful that I got to know you, even if it wasn’t for very long.

Libby

Before I can overthink it, I hit send. I imagine the words turning into particles, speeding through the air, putting themselves back together in Adam’s inbox.

He probably won’t see it until the morning—and even then, I might not hear back from him for a while. Or ever.

My phone buzzes.

Adam:Hi

Before I can wonder if we’re so cosmically connected that he was thinking about me at the exact moment I was thinking of him, my phone buzzes again.

Adam:Saw your email

I open the text thread and feel the familiar panic of trying to remember who I’m supposed to be while messaging Adam. But there’s only one me now. The one who lied and manipulated him into thinking I was someone—someones, really—that I’m not.

Libby:Sorry, I know you wanted time. I just had to say how sorry I was. How sorry I am.

Adam:It’s okay

My stomach flips. What exactly is okay?

Adam:Can I call you?

I exhale a slow breath. I don’t think I can handle hearing his voice. Texting is better. Safer.

Libby:It’s late. I don’t want to wake Hannah up.

It feels weird typing her name out to him, but there’s nothing to hide anymore.

Adam:That’s right, you share an apartment, too?

Libby:Yup. She’s my best friend. And my roommate. And my business partner.

Adam:There’s so much I don’t know about you

I can’t tell if his words are an accusation, or just the sad truth.

Libby:I really am sorry

Adam:I’m not angry. I was upset at first, but now, I’m just hurt.

Libby:I’m even sorrier about that

My eyes well with tears, and I try to blink them away. I know how it feels to be hurt by someone you care about, and I never wanted to make Adam feel that way.

Adam:What hurts the most is that you didn’t trust me enough to be honest, to show me who you really are

His words hit straight to my heart. He’s right. It’s not his fault that men in the past have let me down, starting with my father. The ironic part is that Adam’s the first man who really saw me. Even though I was holding so many things back.

I stare at my phone—both grateful for the screen separating us and wishing it could transport me to his apartment inWicker Park. I think of him, lying in his soft bed. The pillow-top mattress made it feel like I was lying on a cloud. Or maybe that was because I was next to Adam.

Libby:I know it sounds like a line, but it really wasn’t you. It was me.

They aren’t the right words, but they’re the only ones I have right now. Adam said he needed time; maybe I do, too. To work on myself, and get to a place where I’m not so afraid to let someone see me. All of me.

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