Page 77 of After Everything
His voice. The way he'd said it. Like he was seeing me for the first time in years. Like he was proud of me.
Fuck.
I slowed to a walk, hands on my hips, gasping for air. My heart was racing… from the run, obviously. Just from the run.
A woman with a golden retriever gave me a concerned look as she passed. I probably looked deranged. Hair plastered to my forehead with sweat, face flushed, bent over like I'd just finished a marathon.
I'd only gone two miles. On top of the five from this morning.
Seven miles before noon on a Saturday. Because I'd had coffee with my ex-husband and now apparently I was training for the Olympics.
My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out, still breathing hard.
Three texts from Jess.
How'd it go?
Emma. EMMA.
If you don't answer me in the next 10 minutes I'm coming over.
I checked the timestamp on the last one. Twelve minutes ago.
Shit.
I typed back:
I'm fine. At the park. Running.
The response was immediate:
You already ran this morning.
I stared at the screen. Then typed:
I know.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
I'm comingover. Don't argue.
I didn't have the energy to argue.
I walked the rest of the way home slowly, legs shaking now that the adrenaline was wearing off. The October air felt good against my overheated skin, but I still felt like I was burning from the inside out.
I'd just told my ex-husband I didn't hate him anymore.
And somehow that felt more terrifying than when I'd hated him.
By the time I got back to my building, Jess was already there, leaning against the wall next to my door with two coffees in her hands.
"You look like hell," she said.
"Thanks."
"I brought caffeine." She handed me one of the cups. "And I'm not leaving until you tell me everything."
I unlocked the door and let us both in. My apartment was exactly as I'd left it: keys on the counter, jacket thrown over the back of the couch. Evidence of my hasty exit.
