Page 65 of After Everything
Had been for weeks now. Three weeks, maybe more, depending on when exactly it had happened.
"David." My dad's voice pulled me back. "I'm not telling you this to pressure you into anything. I just thought you should know."
"Yeah." My voice came out rough. "Thanks."
"What you do with that information is up to you." He leaned back in his chair. "But son, you've spent three years becoming someone worth forgiving. At some point, you have to let yourself try."
The words hung between us.
I thought about Emma in her office last week. The way she'd laughed at my stupid joke. The moment before she'd remembered to be distant, when we'd just been two people talking. I thought about nine months of professional emails, of boundaries carefully maintained, of wanting to reach out and stopping myself every single time.
I thought about spending the rest of my life wondering what she would have said if I'd just asked.
"What if she says no?"
"Then she says no, and you move on." He shrugged. "But what if she says yes?"
Marcus had asked me the same thing a week ago. Now my dad. Two people whoknew me, who'd watched me rebuild myself, both saying the same thing.
Maybe they were right.
Or maybe I was just looking for permission to do what I'd wanted to do for three years.
"I don't want to pressure her," I said. "Or make her uncomfortable. We've finally found this... professional equilibrium. I don't want to mess that up."
"Are you happy with professional equilibrium?"
"No."
"Then maybe it's time to risk it."
We finished our coffee. Dad paid, waving off my attempt to split the check. We walked out to the parking lot together.
"I already had my shot," I said as we reached his car. "And I blew it. Spectacularly."
Dad stopped, his hand on the door handle. He turned to look at me.
"Yes," he said. "You did."
The bluntness of it stung, but I nodded. He wasn't wrong.
"But David." He let go of the handle,faced me fully. "That was three years ago. You were a different person then. Selfish, ambitious in all the wrong ways, making terrible decisions." He paused. "You're not that person anymore. So maybe the question isn't whether you deserve another shot. Maybe it's whether the person you are now deserves a chance to try."
I didn't have an answer to that.
"Think about it," he said, unlocking his car. "But don't think too long."
I watched him drive away, then sat in my own car for a long time.
Emma was single.
Three weeks, maybe more. Long enough that showing up now wouldn't be pouncing on a fresh breakup. Long enough that she'd had time to process, to adjust, to be okay on her own.
But not so long that I could keep using it as an excuse to wait.
I pulled out my phone and stared at it.
I could text her. Keep it casual.Hey, I was wondering if you'd want to grab coffee sometime. Just to talk.
