Page 26 of Lessons in Forgiving
They loved it.
An actual news outlet not based in a small college officelovedsomething I’d written.
Just like that, changing majors seemed worth it.
If I was actually good at this—good enough beyond a student-only readership—maybe by the end, my parents wouldn’t be too disappointed, upset, mad. Maybe instead of that truckload ofchanclasI’d been worrying about, it would only be one. Maybe two.
“And they—?” I couldn’t even say it.
“Yes.” Eddie was silent, and he probably heard my swallowed gasp. “They’d like to publish it.”
CHAPTER 11
NOW
For the next interview, I was early. Prepared and early, and somehow Henry still beat me to it. He sat at one of the tables in Daisy’s, the coffee shop I still picked up shifts in, every now and then.
In his chair, he looked a little too large, almost comically so. Long legs extended to one side of the small white table, he’d left a spot on the bench—that stretched along the entirety of the light pink wall on the other side—empty. For me, presumably.
I took a deep breath, appreciating one last moment before he’d notice me, and stepped through the door.
Ex-girlfriend who didn’t at all still care and kind of despised him, I reminded myself. The bell above the door chimed. Henry turned with a smile like he knew it was me.
The same smile he’d give me when I’d walk into his apartment without a knock or a ring of the doorbell, and suddenly stood in front of him demanding a kiss or a hug or just general attention. The same smile he’d give me from the field once he’d spotted me on the sideline, knowing we’d get exactly thirteen minutes alone in the locker room, after everyone else had left and before staff would check to lock up for the day.
And the same one he’d give me after we hadn’t seen each other for a while, because he’d become busier with soccer, and I’d become much busier with the paper after that first article had sold.
That’s how much I could see in his smile. That’s probably why it tugged on my heartstrings, too.
“Paula!” I thought he said, but his lips weren’t moving, and his voice was usually a pitch deeper. My eyes diverted, flickered behind the counter, and almost doubled in size.
“Jack,” I acknowledged by way of greeting, forcing myself to walk up to him instead of sitting on that bench opposite Henry. I held up a finger in his direction, beckoning him to give me a second I didn’t even want to give myself. “Didn’t know you were working today,” I admitted.
Jack laughed, the sound as airy and innocent as always. He drew a hand through his strawberry blond hair, then messed the front of it up to frame his face.
“We used to cover this exact shift together,” he reminded me. “But it’s been a while, hasn’t it? What’s got you so busy that you can’t help dear old me out anymore?”
I physically fought the urge to look at Henry. When my head moved to turn in his direction, I managed to shake it instead. “ThePost.” A happy sigh accompanied the words, like I was finally doing what I’d been supposed to all along. “I don’t think I’ll be able to cover shifts anytime soon. Could you tell Daisy when you see her?”
Jack’s brows rose with surprise. He was just as aware of the fallout caused by my last article for theHBP, and neither of us thought I’d ever write for them again.
“Paula.” He was smiling again. He did that a lot in my presence. “That’s wonderful. Of course I’ll let her know.” His eyes shifted behind me when the door announced another customer, and he cleared his throat. “Can I get you anything, then?”
I shook my head, remembering Henry again. “That’s alright, I’m here for—” My hand swept in his direction before I could stop myself. When Jack’s gaze followed, I cut myself off.
He’d never been Henry’s biggest fan, honestly. Not when we were dating, and especially not after we’d broken up. Even lessso when Jack had kissed me, and I—in a whirlwind of nerves and pity and heartache—told him I wasn’t over my ex, and this could never go anywhere.
That was six months ago. And to give credit where credit was due, Jack had been diligently waiting for me to do just that: get over my ex.
Seeing Henry now, he probably wasn’t thrilled. So I scurried away. “Thank you. Gotta go!”
I still wasn’t quite sure what I’d thanked him for when I let myself fall into the seat opposite Henry. The amused gleam in his eyes immediately took the edge off, though.
They flicked to the smartwatch around his wrist, then back up to me. “Only two minutes.”
I huffed, both in frustration and amusement and immediately forgot Jack behind the counter, watching us like a hawk as he took another order. “How do you do it?” I asked Henry, shrugging out of my jacket. “I really tried to be on time today. Between training, school, and… everything else you’ve got going on, how are you still earlier than me?”
Henry leaned into his chair, crossed his arms in front of his chest lazily while he watched me unpack my equipment. The early spring sun peaked through the window, streaking his brown hair with temporary highlights and making him squint. He shrugged.
