Everything About You

Was there any way to go back and do it all over again and do it right? I wish there was, but, unfortunately, there was no way to go back to the past and have a redo, even after knowing everything I know now.

The past was unerasable.

I had broken us.

I had stolen his smile.

I had rejected his love.

I had made so many mistakes.

Ronan was not one of them but what I did to him was.

I regretted it every day since.

My heart never healed and the crack widened a bit as I stared at the man I used to love when that same heart had been whole.

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just asked what came to mind first. “You’re the last person I expected to run into… What are you doing here?”

I waited for him to echo my question and when he didn’t, I realized he already knew I lived in this building. Was he looking for me on purpose or did he find me only out of coincidence?

His answer floored me. It was not the one I expected. “I live here.”

“I figured you stayed in Pittsburgh—”

“In this building,” he clarified, cutting me off.

He lived here? In the same building as I did? What kind of karma was this?

Before I could find words to respond, he continued, his tone more than a little accusatory, “You told me you were moving away from Pittsburgh after you graduated. Or was that a lie, too?”

It was kind of crazy. His voice seemed to be deeper than mine now that we were in our thirties. It was deep and rich and had more of a rasp to it than what I remembered.

What hadn’t changed was that it did things to me that I had forgotten.

Okay, I didn’t forget. I had purposely pushed them out of my mind. Because back then I figured I would never experience those same things again with anyone else.

Unfortunately, I was right.

I ignored the shot about lying to him. “I did.”

“You moved back.”

He knew the answer already. I shouldn’t have to confirm it, but… “Yes, I moved back.” And somehow ended up living in the same building as you, Roe. How the hell did that happen?

“Why?” The single word was cold as ice and just as sharp. Like I had betrayed him all over again by coming back to the city we had shared together.

I wanted to snap back, “Why not?” It wasn’t like he owned the city. I also didn’t owe him an explanation.

The only thing I ever owed him was an apology and I had given that to him twelve years ago.

Just because he didn’t accept it at the time, didn’t mean it wasn’t valid.

I was sorry then. I was sorry now. But I wasn’t going to drag myself over slivers of glass for him to feel better.

Not now.

Not all these years later.

Especially when, a couple of years after I graduated, I had too much to drink and in a bad judgment call reached out to him. Of course, he never responded because twelve years ago he decided to never forgive me.

As much as I wished his decision had been different, he had every right to embrace the way he felt.

Back then. And even now.

However, I did not owe him answers. Just like he didn’t owe me any, either.

I looked past him to my children, who, surprisingly, still stood where I told them to wait. Both sets of eyes watching us.

Those two were the most important human beings in my life. Even more than the person who previously held that spot.

Because they were watching, and maybe even listening, I didn’t want this conversation to turn ugly. I really needed to cut it short now that I knew he wasn’t stalking me for whatever reason. Now that I knew that us both living in the same building was simply a strange coincidence.

“Look,” I started, driving fingers through my hair, “I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for us. I can break the lease and find another place to live.”

I really couldn’t afford to find another place. Deposits and rent weren’t cheap. Moving wasn’t cheap. Even without a bunch of stuff.

The thought of having to move again turned my stomach. It would put me in the hole even deeper than I already was. But I would do it.

For him.

Maybe even for my own mental health.

“You’d do that?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

He didn’t believe me. I could see it all over his face.

A face that was much more mature than when I’d last seen it. Shallow lines spidered out from the corners of his dark brown eyes. A goatee now circled the mouth I had tasted in the past more times than I could count. It was also hard to miss the tattoos covering his arms below the short-sleeves of his snug T-shirt.