“Are you dying?” I ask. It’s the only thing that would prevent me from ending this call.

“Am I dying?” She repeats my question with laughter as if I’m absurd and unreasonable and an ass… whole. “No, I’m not dying. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Do you need money?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Every ounce of anxiety she used to fill me with returns in just these few seconds on the phone with her. I immediately end the call. I have nothing to say to her. I block her number, regretful that I gave her as long as I did to speak. I should have ended the call as soon as she told me who she was.

I lean forward over my desk and cradle my head in my hands. My stomach is churning from the unexpectedness of the last couple of minutes.

I’m surprised by my reaction, honestly. I thought this might happen one day, but I imagined myself not caring. I assumed I’d feel as indifferent toward her returning to my life as I did when she forced me to leave hers. But back then, I was indifferent to a lot of things.

Now I actually like my life. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. I have absolutely no desire to allow anyone from my past to come in and threaten that.

I run my hands over my face, forcing down the last few minutes, then I push back from my desk. I walk outside to help Brad with the repairs and do my best to move beyond this moment. It’s hard, though. It’s like my past is crashing into me from all directions, and I have absolutely no one to discuss this with.

After a few minutes of both of us working in silence, I say to Brad, “You need to get Theo a phone; he’s almost thirteen.”

Brad laughs. “You need to get a therapist who’s closer to your age.”

Chapter Six Lily

“Have you decided what you’re doing for Emerson’s birthday?” Allysa asks.

Allysa and Marshall threw a first birthday party for their daughter, Rylee, that was so big, it was worthy of a Sweet Sixteen. “I’m sure I’ll just let her have a smash cake and give her a couple of presents. I don’t have room for a big party.”

“We could do something at our place,” Allysa offers.

“Who would I invite? She’ll be one; she has no friends. She can’t even talk.”

Allysa rolls her eyes. “We don’t throw kids’ parties for our babies. We throw them to impress our friends.”

“You’re my only friend, and I don’t need to impress you.” I hand Allysa an order from the printer. “Are we doing dinner tonight?”

We get together for dinner at least twice a week at their place. Ryle occasionally pops by, but I purposefully plan my visits on nights he’s on call. I don’t know if Allysa has ever noticed. If she has, she probably doesn’t blame me. She says it’s painful watching Ryle when I’m around because she also suspects he still has hope for us. She prefers to spend time with him when I’m not present.