Page 43 of A World Without You
“It’s just sad,” I answer.
He squints at me. “And?”
“And what? It’s sad. You don’t deserve it.”
“And there’s something else you’re thinking about. Tell me,” he presses, and I blow out a rumbly breath through my lips.
“I just feel like I’m a Krista—hurting people who don’t deserve it.”
He snorts. “Trust me, you aren’t a Krista.”
“But I’m a runner.”
“You didn’t leave a kid behind.”
“I left a life though...twice.” I sigh as I pull my wine glass to my lips, sipping more wine to numb my emotions. I think of Colin and how well I knew him once. How well I knew him last night. “I can’t believe I saw Colin today. I can’t believe I’m going to keep seeing him...like,howis this going to work?”
“It’ll be fine. You’re both adults. It happened a long time ago,” he responds.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure he imagined how to murder me in about 317 ways during our two-minute interaction,” I argue.
“But did he use a stapler or any other kind of office equipment in such scenarios?” he tilts his chin.
“Yes! I’m sure the majority of them were how he could kill me on the spot with paperclips and Scotch tape.”
Bennett almost laughs again. “You should fear for your life.”
“I should.”
“File a complaint with HR.”
I tilt my head and make a face that conveys that would be taking it too far.
He doesn’t speak, and all I hear is the chorus of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” playing in the background.
“Quit,” he challenges.
I draw back. “I am not quitting.”
“Good.”
I puff out my chest, take another sip of wine, and immediately deflate, setting it down with a sad plunk. “I miss him so much, Bennett. And I wish it made sense, but I can see it all. I can see our life together and all that could have been.”
I don’t mention the dreams for fear of him committing me to a psych ward himself.
“Do you even know him enough to miss him?” he asks, and when I don’t respond, he continues. “People change, Liv. He’s had your number and social media blocked for five years. He doesn’t know you anymore, and you don’t know him.”
I swallow the bitter taste of the truth. “But he loved me once, and I loved him...some things don’t change. Sometimes, they just get buried, you know?”
He nods, reasoning. “Then get him back.”
My eyes drift from the Christmas lights at the bar and back to Bennett.
“Well, that would be a Christmas miracle.” I rest my chin in my hand.
Bennett leans even closer. “Well, then, what’s the plan, Susan Walker?”
I mimic him. “Shall we call itMiracle on Pine Street?”
