Because You're Different ✔

73. Splatters [Part 2]

I gripped the wheel tighter and sat up straight. Every few moments, my eyes would leave the road, only for a split second, to check if she was in fact there, right next to me in the passenger seat. When she'd first spotted the silver Lexus logo on the hood, she'd crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows at the sight of the shiny exterior. Something in me had wanted to make excuses — it was a lease, after all, and at least, it was electrically powered. Only I refused to let her have the same effect on me her mother used to have. The thought of her viewing me in that same light was too much to bear.

Seemed like I had to find a way to not collapse under the weight of it anyway. She hadn't said a word since, other than the occasional soft comments on what had changed in the neighborhood. Funnily enough, she pointed out things I'd long forgotten about: the gigantic oak tree in Mr. Tanner's front yard that was now reduced to a sad stump, the house on the corner that used to be a bright blue and was now painted a dull white, the primary school nearby that had revamped its playground... There was no way for me to gauge her reaction to it, if she cared or not.

She sat facing the window, her elbow leaning on the door panel, head in her hands, hair blocking her expression from view. Her left hand lay restless on her knee, fingers constantly stretching so tightly they bent backward every now and then — why did I forget they did that? It told me she wasn't at ease, and any second, I expected her to ask me to turn around and bring her back to the airport.

The silence was killing me. We used to be good at not talking, but not like this. Not like I was here and she was in New York, even though she wasn't. If she didn't come here to reconnect, what was her intention? I opened my mouth, ready to break this nerve-racking tension — and closed it again. What could I say? I was a grown-ass lawyer, for god's sake, and I couldn't even speak to a girl I'd once been friends with? "So..." I said, and judging by her slight jump, I startled her, again. "Any ideas for dinner?"

She shrugged, directing her attention to me. "Maybe something Asian. Haven't had that in a while. Valentina claims the texture of rice makes her puke, and David has—" In the middle of the sentence, she stopped, throwing me a stealthy glance, like she wasn't sure why she was telling me this. "... David has a noodles trauma. He swears he once witnessed someone dying after choking on a noodle. Refuses to eat it."

There'd been a load of nerves swiveling through my stomach ever since it'd fully dawned on me she was real, and now, they became too much. I laughed, way too loud for the situation.

"It's not funny. A guy died." However, she seemed to have trouble suppressing a slight smile as well, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "Okay, maybe it's a little bit funny." She concentrated on the outside world again, inspecting the rows of houses obscured by towering gates. "For how many will we be cooking?"

"Hm? Sam's not gonna be home for at least five days."

"I meant Charlotte." The words came out strained, difficult to grasp, like it was taking her a lot of effort to get that name out.

I frowned. Charlotte? Why the hell would she think Charlotte was going to be here? Had she somehow gotten wind of the arrangement I'd made with her? How? For the first time since I'd agreed to it, I regretted saying yes — June would never understand, nor be okay with it.

"Or... aren't you two together anymore?"

I rubbed the wheel, focusing on the traffic lights above us. If there was anything I didn't want her to feel, it was guilty. She'd felt terrible after our kiss, even when she'd still had hope I'd get back together with Charlotte — what would she do if she'd hear it'd been the end? "No," I said, pulling into the parking lot of Trader Joe's. "We split up two years ago."