How? Why? What? A hundred questions rush through my head at once, but my mouth doesn’t formulate a single one out loud.

“I’m not sure if you want to hear this but I didn’t want to keep anything from you,” she says.

“What? What did he say?”

“He said he wants to talk to you, but he has a new number. Do you want to know what it is?”

“Yes, go ahead.” I fumble with my phone.

I don’t have anything to write it down with but I manage to open the notepad on my phone and type it in.

“There’s one more thing, Olive.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He said this number will only work until noon Pacific time. I’m not sure what that means, but that’s what he said.”

After we hang up, I stare at the number until it’s burned into my memory. Noon is only forty-five minutes away.

I walk around in circles trying to decide what I want to do.

Five minutes ago it was a no-brainer, but now I’m having trouble deciding.

Maybe we broke up for a reason.

Maybe I shouldn’t call him.

Maybe the fact that we haven’t been able to speak to each other was a blessing.

My hands shake as I dial the number.

“Hi,” I whisper when he answers the phone.

“Olive? Is that you?!” Nicholas’ voice is excited and frantic at the same time.

A gust of wind sweeps over me and under my sweater. In less than a second, it chills me to the bone.

“How did you get her number?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

“I had that folder for a long time,” he says.

“Yes, of course,” I mumble.

There’s a long pause and another gust of wind comes through.

I can’t hear him very well and I don’t want to stay out here much longer. I climb to my feet and push my way to the car.

“How are you?” I ask.

“I’m fine. How did everything go with your mother?”

“She’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“She is so much more than I ever expected. She was so…happy to see me.”

“That’s great,” Nicholas says. “I’m very happy for you. You deserve that after…”

Given everything I have done, I’m not so sure I deserve her but I appreciate him saying so anyway.

Inside the car, his voice is crisp and clear. He asks me more about Josephine and I tell him about all of the good parts.

When he asks about Owen, I gloss over the bad parts. I don’t want to make this about him.

I don’t want Owen to pollute one more thing in my life.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say. “How are you? Where are you?”

There’s a pause on the other end followed by a deep sigh.