Page 159 of Huckleberry Hill
“I came to see if you wanted to get some lunch.” His eyes dropped to the shirt. “What’s that?”
I cleared my throat. “My boxes came with all my stuff. Including one of Gianni’s shirts.”
His smile slipped.
“I’m throwing it away,” I said hastily. “I wasn’t expecting to see it.”
“You weren’t expecting me to see it either, were you?”
“Definitely not.” I sighed. “Seriously, Declan, this isn’t a big deal. I don’t want to keep it.”
“You kept Wade’s hoodie,” he pointed out. He raked a hand through his hair.
“He gave that to me when we were in high school, but I’ll throw that out too. I don’t want to wear anyone’s clothes but yours.”
“I’m trying to stay levelheaded here,” he said. “It’s not working.”
“You’re angry.”
“Not at you.”
“What then?”
“You can throw away the clothes of relationships past, but what about pictures? Memories?”
I went to him and placed my hand on his heart. He covered my hand with his and stared down at me.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to get rid of photos. Because when I look at them, I don’t think about my relationships. With Wade’s photos, I remember high school, I remember bonfires, I remember sneaking in past curfew with Salem.”
“And Gianni’s photos?”
“I don’t know yet when I look at them what I’ll feel . . . or remember. It’s fresh. As for the memories?—”
“Those are yours to keep.” He kissed me gently. “It’s okay to remember. I just . . .”
“What?”
“Don’t want you to look at them and wonder what if.”
“What if? You mean what could have been if I’d stayed with him?”
“Married him. Had a whole life with him.”
“I won’t ever look at photos and wonder what if,” I vowed.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I insisted. “Because he didn’t want me. And you do. And that’s what matters.”
He took a deep breath.
“Better?”
“Better,” he agreed.
“Less homicidal?” I teased.
“Barely.” He smiled. “But it’s a start.”
