I stare at the message as my heart beats wild and freely. It hasn’t beat like that since I last saw him. Then I get a message from Cora.

lil’Chibi: OMG Tuxedo Mask is here, you need to come see him, Sailor Moon.

I can’t believe I let Cora call me Sailor Moon. Then I get a message from Darien.

Darien: Your boyfriend is here.

Every day Darien checks on me to see how I’m doing. We’ll chat about television shows, music, and whatever else comes to mind.

Last week, he told me that he’s been working on some music and wants me to listen to it, because every time he asks Alana or Cora for constructive criticism, they tell him that every song he writes is great. I heard him play the piano one time when I went over there for dinner and he’s gifted—Mozart gifted.

When he speaks about Gunner my little ears perk up. I’m hungry for any information about him. Even though I try to hide it, Darien calls me out on it. He keeps telling me to just put myself out of my misery and go back to him. He would say, “Gunner is right about you, you wear your emotions on your sleeves.”

He didn’t hit me up, and my heart breaks a little because I was hoping he would reach out to me after he returned from rehab. But then again, I can’t expect him to when I’m the one who broke things off. What I said to him about our relationship being an experiment—I didn’t mean it. He kept calling me every day before he went to rehab; I listened to every single one of his voicemails and especially about the part about me being his one and only. Maybe I should have answered his phone calls. I missed him these past three months. If he doesn’t reach out to me then I understand, he probably lost interest in me since he stopped calling. A lump forms in the back of my throat as I set my phone down on the counter. I watch as snow falls slowly from the sky and people walk back and forth in front of the shop. A couple strolls in, orders cookies shaped like snowflakes. Paris hits the register as she takes their money.

Once the couple leaves, she asks, “You’re waiting for that boy to come through the door, ain’t cha?”

I nod and finally admit what I’ve been thinking for so long. “Maybe I should have reached out to him while he was in rehab.”

“No. You needed to do what you did. Trust me.”