I changed my email address so he couldn’t find me again.

But I think about him all the time.

25

Emily got out of the cab and walked into their empty apartment. It was warm and smelled faintly of Ezra’s cologne. She kicked off her heels and opened up the window, letting the breeze cool the room; when it did, it swept the cologne out into the night.

Emily slid down onto the living room couch. She felt raw, like she’d tumbled off a bicycle, scraped the skin from her knees and hands, except it was her heart that had been scraped bloody. Dr. West had once told her that when you let yourself love someone, you give them the power to hurt you. It was why she hadn’t let herself love anyone for so long. But now she loved Ezra, she loved him deeply, and he’d hurt her deeply. But she’d hurt him, too. She knew that. She both was and wasn’t looking forward to him being home tomorrow night. They needed to talk, they needed to work through this, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy for either one of them.

With a sigh, Emily picked up her phone to text him good night but thought better of it. She’d give him the night to himself. She’d text him tomorrow. Instead, she decided she should probably try to sleep. It was late, and she needed to function the next day.

But she hated sleeping in their queen-sized bed without Ezra. She felt his absence every time she rolled into the space where he should’ve been, every time her hand slid onto the cool sheets that should’ve been warmed by his body. Whenever he was on call, it was only when he crawled into bed at three or four or five in the morning that she relaxed enough to really sleep.

Maybe she’d sleep on the couch tonight.

“Alexa,” she said to the circle. “Please play ‘Crystal Castle’ by Austin Roberts.” She needed to hear it again. Was it really about her? Could he possibly still be thinking about her so many years later? She’d imagined he’d moved on quickly, met someone else, met six someone elses. Groupies who followed bands around, who would see him play and then follow him around.

Emily listened to the first few bars and then said, “Alexa, where does Austin Roberts live?”

“Los Angeles,” the machine said to her.

She was glad it wasn’t still New York City.

xxi