Page 91 of Ashes of Us
I did remember. It happened during our third year of dating. I'd been driving back from Maya’s birthday party.
"You showed up in your pajamas," I said.
"You were sitting on the guardrail eating leftover cake."
"It was good cake. Lemon lavender. I wasn't going to waste it." I smiled despite myself. "You changed the tire in like ten minutes."
"Fastest tire change of my life. You were stress-eating cake and I was worried you'd make yourself sick."
"I had one slice."
"You had three."
"They were small slices."
He laughed, the sound quiet and surprised, like he'd forgotten he was allowed to. Hearing it did something to my chest. Something I didn't want to examine too closely.
When the laughter faded, we sat in the new silence, the easy moment crystallizing into something heavier.
"I missed this," he said quietly. Then, as if remembering himself: "Sorry. I shouldn't have?—"
"It's okay." And weirdly, it was. "I missed it too. Sometimes."
He looked at me then.
"I'm not trying to—" He stopped, hesitated. "I know where we are. I'm not asking for anything."
"I know."
"I just want you to know that I—" He gripped the steering wheel. "I'm glad you're in my life. Even like this. Even just... sitting in a parking lot waiting for a tow truck."
My throat felt tight. "Liam?—"
"You don't have to say anything." He released the steering wheel, settled back. "I just wanted you to know."
I should change the subject. Should pull back and rebuild the careful distance we'd established.
"I think about calling you sometimes," I heard myself say.
He went very still.
"Something funny happens, or I see something that reminds me of you, and I'll pull up your contact. Just sit there staring at it." I picked at a thread on my cardigan. "I never actually call."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what we are. Because I'm scared. Because…” I stopped. This was too much honesty. And far too fast.
But he just nodded, like he understood. Like he'd been sitting with his phone doing the exact same thing.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "you can call. Anytime. Even if it's just to tell me about something funny. Or to complain about your van dying." A pause. "I'd like that."
Something fluttered inside in my chest. I couldn’t quite name it, but it was something… soft.
"Okay," I said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Maybe I will."
