Page 14 of Maybe This Time
There were so many things I wanted to ask, and the most important one burned the tip of my tongue, but I needed time to brace myself for the answer.
Instead, I went with something easier.
“When did you really move back?”
Ezra had told me earlier that he’d only been back for a week, but he’d always been a terrible liar. Especially to me. He’d scrunched his nose right before he replied—his telltale sign.
He grimaced before saying, “I’ve been here since September 15.”
Even though I’d suspected he hadn’t told me the truth, the confirmation still stung because it meant he’d been in town this entire time and hadn’t reached out.
I guess I hadn’t been on his mind nearly as much as he’d been on mine. That realization only twisted the invisible knife that had embedded itself in my chest the second I saw him earlier tonight. Flaying open the wound from his absence that had never had a chance to heal.
I forced myself to pull away from the spiral before the pain I’d been carrying bled at my feet for him to see.
“Why didn’t you…” I whispered, the growing lump in my throat making it hard to get the words out. “Why didn’t you call?”
My chest ached as I waited for his answer. I’d spent months trying to come up with a valid reason, but I’d always come up blank. Because if the roles were reversed, I’d never be able to find a good reason to let go.
“Truth or dare, Talya?” he asked, ignoring my follow-up question and sticking to the rules. The smile still lingered on his face, but it was at odds with the way his jaw tightened or the way his body had gone stiff.
“Truth,” I replied, already bracing myself.
His question was immediate.
“Why did you never answer my letter? Why didn’t you come to Paris?”
I’d been so focused on anticipating what he might ask me that it took me a moment for his words to fully register.
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I asked, blinking at him in confusion because clearly, I’d misheard him.
Against my better judgment, I’d kept all of his letters. All twenty-eight of them. I’d poured hours into memorizing them, reading them over and over again in the darkest hours of the night, searching for what I might have missed. To see if there had been a sign somewhere that would explain how we got here.
Yet all I felt reading them was that maybe,maybe, I wasn’t imagining things. Maybe the love I felt for him was reciprocated through all of the anecdotes and joy and…lovepouring out of his words. But that’s what happened when you loved someone fiercely. You began mistaking your feelings for theirs and built something from reading in between the lines that didn’t exist.
Only to feel like you were being ripped apart from the inside out when reality crashed over your heart like a tidal wave.
A loud ringing cut through the growing silence, snapping me out of it. I fumbled for my phone, silencing it quickly before lifting my eyes back to Ezra.
“Why are you being like this? I asked, my voice tight.
His expression hardened. “Great, you’re just going to pretend like it never happened. Got it.” He muttered that last part under his breath as he pushed to his feet, putting space between us as he stalked to the far side of the room.
I flinched at the sudden dismissal. My confusion only deepened as I watched him pace, tearing off his gloves and tossing them aside. Ezra rarely lost his composure, especially not with me. Tonight had been the first time and sure, we’d had our fair share of disagreements in the past like any close friends would. But we’d alwaystalkedto each other. That had always been one of the things I loved the most about us.
So none of this, from these past eight months to right now, made any sense.
I stood and made my way toward him. “Pretend what? I don’t even understand what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talking about? Really, Talya?” His voice grew harder in disbelief as he spun around to face me. I froze in place, unsure how to make sense of any of this. He gripped the front of his suit, right over his heart, his chest rising and falling faster with each breath. “I pouredeverythingI felt in that letter and you shut me down.”
“Ezra, what letter? What do you mean you asked me to come to Paris?” My tone grew more frantic with each question andIwas growing more irritated the longer I was staying in the dark.
We’d talked about me visiting, but between his insane schedule and how consuming building Roots had been, we hadn’t been able to make it work. Even our phone calls had become infrequent because of the time difference and life pulling us in different directions. That was why the letters had started.
Ezra had said,If people back then could do it, so could we.
I’d thought it was romantic, but I’d quickly buried that thought since our relationship was purely platonic. At least, outside of my head and my heart it was.
