Page 40 of The Write Place

“You would have jumped right in.” My shoulders droop inward slightly.

“You’re damn right I would have. Anyway, once he realized that wasn’t a great idea, he wanted to drive right to your place and talk to you, which I told him was also not a great idea. I said you needed time, and that you’d call him when you had calmed down. He texted me late last night saying he hadn’t heard from you and that he wasn’t coming in today to give you some space.”

“You text each other now?” I ask, incredulously. She lifts her eyes to the ceiling and grumbles.

“I gave him my number because he looked like a damn puppy. He was worried about you, Mac. And I think he was worried you actually meant what you said about you two yesterday.”

“I did mean it.”

Her eyes snap to me. “Why?” she demands.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ He’s leaving, Jenny. His time here is over halfway up. This isn’t worth it for some half-decent kisses and a little banter.”

Jenny eyes me skeptically. “You said it was the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.”

“Semantics.”

“Don’t throw away happiness because Marty—”

“Marty doesn’t have anything to do with this. I’ve never felt totally right about it, as you are aware. This inched out of ‘just fun’ territory after he took me to dinner, and I don’t think I have it in me to say goodbye to someone I really care about and then be devastated all over again when I see them in every little thing in this place.” I leave the “again” unsaid, but Jenny’s face softens.

“Should I ignore the fact that you admitted you care about him?”

“Yes, if you could do that, that would be great. And, besides, he doesn’t believe in long-term happiness. He told my students that everything ends, and endings are sad, so what’s the point?”

“You know what I’m going to say, Mac, but I’m going to say it, anyway. Be honest with yourself. Don’t pretend there isn’t anything there. At the very least, be gentle with him.”

I sigh, tipping my face to the ceiling in exasperation. She pats my shoulder as she goes to leave the room.

“Oh, and Mac?” She turns around at the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure Ben is too much of a coward to come talk to you about this any time soon, but if he does anything but grovel at your feet, just remember: your hard parts meet his soft parts to cause the most pain.”

A harsh laugh flies out of me, and she smiles brightly, wiggling her fingers goodbye.

The rest of the day goes mostly normally, though I never seem to be able to catch a groove. A few students ask where Daniel is, and I lie and say he took the day off to get some writing done since that is, after all, what he’s here for. The students mostly shrug and move on, for which I’m grateful.

I leave right at the end of the day, both because I don’t want to talk to anyone and because I’m desperate to fall on my couch and watch brainless television, but when I turn down my street, Daniel’s car is parked outside my place. I sigh, pulling into my garage. I rest my head on my steering wheel for a second, gathering the willpower to have this conversation now.

When I get out of my car, Daniel is coming up the driveway, his hands jammed in his pockets again. He’s wearing a fleece jacket, and his shoulders are hunched against the wind or because he’s nervous, but I can’t tell which. We both start talking at the same time.

“Daniel, I—”

“I’m sorry to drop in—”

I smirk and shake my head. The wind blows my hair in front of my face, and I move it behind my ear. “Why don’t you come inside?” He nods, and I lead the way in silence.

Once we are in the door, I take off my jacket and hang it up. He leaves his on and remains awkwardly by the door. We start at the same time again.

“You can—”

“I didn’t mean—”

We both smile slightly at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he shifts on his feet and tries again. “You start.”

“Do you want to sit down or something?” I ask.