“Drew.”
“No.” Gripping my arm, he turns me around, so we’re facing each other. “I should have asked you to stay that night. Maybe if I did, things would be different between us. Maybe Dad would still be here.”
I stroke his cheek with the palm of my hand wiping away the single tear that’s fallen. He missed his dad, but no matter what happened between us, it wouldn’t change the fact that it was his time to go. He’s hurting. So much of me wants to protect him, wrap him up in a cotton-wool blanket and sprinkle happy dust on him. But deep down inside I know I can only do so much. I’m not God.
“I… I can’t stay.”
He pulls away, my hand falling abruptly. “Of course, you can’t.”
“I want to. I really do,” I quickly add. “But what I’m doing, it’s for me. I don’t want to resent you because I stay here.”
“I get it.”
“Do you?” I ask, reaching for his hand again.
Tilting his head to the floor, he ignores my gesture and doesn’t make eye contact. “It’s never been right. Us. We’re just not meant to be.”
“I don’t think it’s not meant to be. It’s the timing, Drew. We’re both at different stages of our lives. If we’re meant to be, it’ll happen. It won’t be forced, and neither one of us will have to make a sacrifice.”
When did I become a relationship expert? I know nothing about love or relationships, for that matter. I know one thing and one thing only—I have to take care of myself first.
My voice croaks holding back my emotions. “My flight… I have to go.”
His body remains the same, and then out of the blue, he raises his eyes to meet mine with a genuine smile on his face. “Go, Zoey. Finish doing what you need to do.”
“Can we stay in touch this time? Don’t pull a girl tantrum on me and change your number,” I deadpan.
“Were you stalking me?”
“If I admit that I was, would that make you happy?”
His lips curve up, his eyes dancing in delight, grinning hopelessly back at me. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“Then yes, I stalked your ass big time,” I laugh. “Now, I really have to go.”
Pulling my body close to his, he places his hands on the sides of my neck leaning in and kissing my forehead. “Bye, Zoey Richards, until we meet again.”
The scent of his cologne lingers, and the memories of us flood back. Our laughter on the couch while I made him watch chick-flicks to our arguments in the kitchen over my lack of cleaning the dishes.
And the one memory I will cherish forever.
The way his eyes fluttered when he fell asleep beside me.
How peaceful and content he looked after we made love.
Love. That’s what happened between us that night.
We don’t need to say the words right now, or maybe even ever. It’s there, and there’s no denying it.
I whisper softly into his chest as we hold onto each other, “Till we meet again, Drew Baldwin.”
And there, in front of his dad’s house, we say our goodbyes. It should hurt more, I should be crying, but I’m not.
Drew, my best friend, did what all best friends do. He encouraged me to follow my dreams. Best friends don’t allow you to settle for anything less. They fight to build you up not bring you down. They see you through your darkest moments and hold your hand to guide you into the light.
I couldn’t have asked for a better friend, roomie, and maybe one day, soulmate.
I throw my bag into the trunk and get into the car. I open the window and see Drew outside, his gaze fixated on me. A mixture of sadness and pride.