Page 16 of The Comeback Summer

Shock ricochets through me. This voice. That nickname. I haven’t heard either for five years and never expected to again.

I glance at Libby; she’s taken one earbud out and is frozen in shock and horror.

“Hang up,” she says.

But I can’t. An external force takes over my hand as I pick up the phone and put it to my ear, willing my voice not to shake as I say—

“Josh?”

•••

YES, IT’S HIM.Joshua Andrew Jacobson. My high school and college boyfriend. My first kiss, my firsteverything. The boy who promised we’d be together forever, then dumped me without warning, plunging me into a black hole of depression from which I never would’ve surfaced if not for my sister, my excellent therapist, and the magic of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

One week before the start of our senior year in college, we were moving into our own apartment—the first time we’d officially lived together. I was unpacking boxes in the bedroom when he burst in, a huge grin on his face, and told me he’d been accepted for a semester abroad at the University of Queensland.

I was completely shocked—I hadn’t even known he’dapplied. We were finance majors, set on a well-plotted course we’d both agreed upon: after graduation, I’d join Libby and work for GiGi, and he’d work with his dad, a financial planner. Now, after takingonebiology class with his roommate, he wanted to study coral reef ecology? It had sounded absurd. I hadn’t even expected he would do it.

Until he got on a plane to Australia a week later, leaving me behind.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. He didn’t break up with me. Not then. We tried to maintain a quasi relationship long-distance but could rarely connect, because he was fifteen hours ahead of me. Without the person who had been my other half for the past eight years, I spent the semester floundering. But I held on, telling myself he’d come back and we’d pick up where we left off.

That’s when he dropped the bomb. He was staying for another semester. And we were over.

“How are you? It’s been a while,” Josh says in my ear, sounding for all the world like he’s my long-lost pal and not the guy who dumped me over the phone. From Australia.

Over at her desk, Libby’s eyes are blazing. “Tell him tofuck off,” she whispers fiercely.

I shake my head at her and speak into the phone. “I’m... fine. How did you get this number?”

Josh laughs, one of those rich, rolling laughs I used to love. “It’s on your website. I tried your old cell number, but I’m guessing you changed it?”

“Um, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh.” His voice is tinged with surprise. Then, quieter: “You blocked me.”

Well, Libby did. She deleted his number from my phone and blocked his ass (her words, not mine). And if he’s just realizing this now, it means he’s never tried to contact me.

My mind floats back to the last time his voice was in my ear, muffled from the long distance.We need to go our separate ways.I’d crumpled to the floor, sobbing, begging him not to do this, telling him that I loved him, that I would always love him.

To which he responded,First love isn’t meant to last forever.

That was when I knew: he’d fallen for someone else. Exactly what I’d feared all those times he “forgot” our planned call or FaceTime. I’ll never forget that sickening twist in my gut at the image of my Josh kissing someone else, undressing someone else, loving someone else.

GiGi always said to never ask a question when you already know the answer, but I’d needed to hear him say it out loud. So I asked.

Is there someone else?

Followed by the longest pause of my life.

Yes.

Shaking my head, I bring myself back to the present.

“Can I help you with something?” My voice sounds stiff and formal, and I clear my throat.

“I’m in Chicago,” he says. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet for coffee.”

“Coffee?” I repeat dumbly.

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