Page 72 of First Verse

Her eyes widen comically. “Saywhat? Holy shit. How does it feel to be a chosen one?”

I laugh weakly. “Pretty awesome.”

She sobers. “This feeling that you don’t know him… it could be because of the time you spent apart. Maybe give yourself, and him, a break? It’s going to take more than a few days to catch up on years.” She pauses, her head tilting and a spark igniting in her dark eyes. “Or do you think he’s lying to you about something?”

“No. I don’t think so? Honestly, I don’t know if any of what I’m feeling is real or if it’s old fears sabotaging me. What if this distance I feel is all in my head? Am I’m expecting too much from him? Freaking out over nothing? Maybe I’m just an insecure idiot. Or maybe this proves that we’re all wrong for each other. What if this is a giant mistake?”

I don’t realize I’m crying in earnest until Lily yanks a napkin from the holder between us and hands it to me. I blow my nose loudly.

“It’s been five days,” I say through another sob. “This is crazy, right? What the fuck is happening to me? One second I’m fine, the next I’m freaking out.”

Lily can’t quite conceal her shock—she’s never seen me lose it like this. “Shit, Ev. What the hell happened last night?”

I sniffle my way through a recounting of yesterday, from Wilder showing up at my work to my fuckup at dinner and what happened after. But I don’t stop there, backtracking to tell her about not seeing him Sunday or Monday, the spotty texts, and how scared I was that he was getting ready to ghost me. How yo-yoing between emotional extremes has fucked up my sleep, my focus, and worst of all, my understanding of myself as a calm, rational person.

When I’m done, Lily doesn’t immediately reply, her gaze on the table and her expression troubled. Knowing she won’t sugarcoat her opinion, I try to prepare myself. A wasted effort, as I’ve barely stopped crying when she lifts her head.

“The way I see it, you have two options. Option one, you believe his explanation for pulling away the last two days—however stupid it was—and you believe that last night he wasn’t upset with you, just crazy tired. Option two, you drive yourself up the wall with various worst-case scenarios. I realize option two is kind of unavoidable given your history with him, but have you considered option one? Taking him at his word?”

“I—” I close my mouth and actually think about it. “I’ve been fixated on the fear that he’s not being totally honest with me.”

She nods in understanding. “He yanked you around for years, Eva. Of course it’s going to take time to trust him. But trust is also a choice, you know? Either you push through your fear or you decide it’s not worth it.”

“It’s worth it,” I say quickly. “Iwantto trust him.”

“Then give yourself some grace as you navigate this. He says he’s all in and you believe that much, right?” I nod. “Maybe setting some boundaries would help, like telling him straight-up what you need to feel safe in the relationship—communication expectations, emotional transparency, et cetera.”

I rub my face, groaning. “That’s not too, I don’t know, needy?”

Her lips purse. “Fuck that. There’s a difference between neediness and communication of your needs, and any man who can’t recognize the difference is a turd. Besides, this isn’t a typical new relationship with a dude you met a week ago. Your baggage with Wilder comes with extra weight fees and carry-ons.”

I snort, then grimace and blow my nose again. Calmness seeps through me, as well as heady gratitude for the woman across from me.

I give her a watery smile. “Thanks for being my spillway. You’re an amazing woman and an incredible friend.”

To my shock, tears fill her eyes. My jaw slack, I rise halfway from my chair. She waves me back down and grabs a napkin, then dabs it delicately beneath her eyes.

“Shut up. You’re welcome. Ugh. I even forgive you for threatening my mascara with that warm and fuzzy shit.”

The laugh bubbling in my throat chokes off when a key rattles in my front door. Lily swivels in her chair, frowning. “Please tell me that’s not Rye. He can’tsee me almost crying until we’ve dated at least six months.”

I snatch my phone and check the time; when I see it, the blood drains from my head. “Oh, fuck. When Wilder texted me this morning, I told him to come over at four. I completely lost track of time.”

Lily’s expression morphs from worried to horrified. “Go dunk your face in cold water,” she hisses.

It’s too late.

The door swings open on Wilder, his head bowed as he tugs the key out of the lock. The sight of him makes my heart soar and my stomach plummet. He looks up and sees us in the kitchen.

“Hi. Sorry. I’m a few minutes early.” He finally registers my tear-wrecked face and his eyes widen in alarm. “Evangeline?”

Lily stands and swiftly packs up her laptop, headphones, and phone. “Call me later,” she whispers, then hurries toward the door. “Hey, Wilder. Good to see you. Coming to the Indigo showcase Friday night?”

Wilder, looking panicked and confused, moves out of her way. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” chirps Lily. “See you then!”

She slips past him and pulls the door closed.

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