I knock again, but I’m scared of waking Wyatt’s parents.

There’s still no answer. Either they can’t hear me or they don’t want to answer the door at eleven fifty at night. Can’t exactly blame them.

I hop off the porch, going to the front lawn in perfect view of their window, and then I pull out my phone and dial their number.

“Hello?”

Their voice doesn’t sound tired. Maybe I didn’t wake them up.

“Wyatt.”

“Neil.”

“Go to your window.”

“What?”

“Go to your window,” I repeat.

They let out this sigh. “Please tell me that you’re not in my front yard at midnight.”

“Technically it’s not midnight yet,” I say as I see the shadows in their window move, pushing back the curtains. And there they are.

I know that it’s only been a day, technically two, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen them.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m here for you.”

“What?”

“I came back for you.”

There’s the barest hint of a smile. I don’t think they want me to see it, but I do.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well … never claimed I was smart.”

They vanish from the window, but I can still hear their breathing on the phone. “What about the wedding?”

“I skipped it.”

“How could you skip it?”

“I felt like it.”

Eventually, the front door unlocks and swings open along with the screen door in front of it, and they’re standing there, staring at me from up on the steps.

I don’t know which one of us hangs up first; all I know is that they’re standing in front of me again, finally.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

Their voice is quiet. “For what?”

“So that I could say that I’m sorry.”

They stand there, against one of the pillars that supports the overhanging roof of the porch, their arms crossed.

Say something.

Anything.

Please.

“You came all the way here to do that?”

I nod.

“How’d you even get my address?”

“The emergency contact form from school.”

“I seriously can’t believe you,” they say with the barest hint of laughter in their voice. The problem is that I can’t tell if it’s the kind of laugh you make when you find something endearing, or if it’s the kind you make when you’re so uncomfortable with what’s going on in front of you that you don’t know what else to do. “Did your Uber already leave?”

I look around for a bit. “Do you see another car here?”

They hold back another laugh. “Come inside. It’s cold.”