Page 97 of Ewan

I chew my lip for a few seconds while Olivia rolls to her back, displaying her belly.

I stare at her, mulling over an answer, when a crazy idea pops into my head, and I type again.

Me: I can wait for you if you’re headed home. There’s stuff I can do in Manhattan.

Cringing inside, I tap send. Clingy much?

If he doesn’t want to let go of me, why would I?

Two minutes pass.

I know it because I glance at the digital clock with religiosity.

No answer.

Me: It’s okay. Send your driver around six.

Emily will return at around five or even earlier.

I can use the extra time to walk around Manhattan. Go downtown and order Chinese takeout before heading home.

There’s no need to be picked up precisely when I finish work and be taken home.

Me: At the place we had lunch today.

A few more moments pass before he finally answers.

Ewan: Okay.

That’s it. That’s all he says. Which is what normal people do.

Annoyed with myself, I crash back and close my eyes.

It doesn’t take long, and I hear noise at the door, and Emily walks in soon after.

She’s come home early, and I crush my surprise, graciously accepting the full pay before saying goodbye to her and the cat and finding myself out in the street with a few hours to kill.

This is unexpected and unplanned, but I won't text Ewan again.

Determined to spend some time by myself, I walk to Lexington Avenue and head south.

21

SCARLETT

I arriveat the meeting place after five, and strings of lights glow along the sidewalks as the evening sets in.

Opting against going inside and getting another coffee, I walk to the park, but not too many people move in that direction as most of them rush home.

A pang of nostalgia hits me.

Life, at times, is all about the people you cross paths with. My mother and I had a good time when she was alive. She made me feel safe and protected and taught me everything she knew.

She also enjoyed every second that she had.

My friends came and went, and I’ve never had someone I could talk to daily and laugh about dates gone wrong or how to make more money.

Sammy comes close to being that type of friend, but I don’t talk to her that often. Besides, I couldn’t be honest with her about Ewan, and I still don’t know if I ever could.

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