“It’s my favorite fruit.” He winked. “Oh, and Rip, I’m proud of you for letting your heart lead you to where your dick—”
“OUT!”
He just laughed and shut the door, and then he yelled through the crack. “You love me, man, one day you’ll admit it!”
“Go annoy Heather.”
He opened the door slightly and poked his head in. “Good idea, she might have more pears…” He shut the door again.
And for the first time in years, I sat at my desk and I worked with a smile the entire time.
Despite the maniac best friend who was stealing pears and making me admit my feelings or lack thereof over the last few years.
I sent a quick text to Colby.
Me:
Banks is in a mood today.
Colby:
When is he not? Also, can you pick up some milk on the way home?
I don’t know how long I stared at the text, smiling at the screen, touching it, then stupidly going through photos of the last few days with me, Colby, and the kids, and then going further back.
Photos of Monica and Brooks that I’d put in a special folder.
Ones that included Colby always smiling and laughing with Monica.
Ones where a lot of times I was staring at Colby or standing at the side in confusion, almost wondering why they were laughing so hard or loud.
The random picture would pop up where I was cracking a smile, but I always seemed tense, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel that way.
I felt free.
I wanted to get the damn milk.
Bring it to Colby and claim a kiss before helping with dinner or putting the kids to bed right after, then catching up on all the moments she’d given me the opportunity to have.
That, like an idiot, I’d fucking missed.