Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hallie
“ I told you, you can stay with us,” Erica implores for what I hope is the final time.
She looks bright and chirpy as hell, standing behind the heavy cement counter of First I’ve always known they were shitty. At least I’m getting the opportunity to go through my things and see if there’s anything I want.”
What I don’t add is that I’m simply grateful I’m in town in time to see my belongings again. In the last few months, I’ve had to reject more calls than normal from the sperm donor. I figured he’d finally realized he was paying for something he didn’t care for, and everything would’ve been donated or thrown out of our storage locker sooner rather than later. He’d assume that, just like them, I wouldn’t want to hold on to any of my more tangible memories.
“You could do that with us there too,” she offers again.
I know it wouldn’t be an issue for Erica and Julian to have me stay with them for a day, a week, or a month.
“Not this time.” I’m the one with the soft voice now. “There’s multiple boxes I have to sort through…a family’s worth.”
A family in which everyone involved had been happy enough to leave without a second thought.
Erica finally puts my cup down in front of me, then places her warm hands over mine. “I get it, but don’t forget we’re your family too. Always have been, always will be.”
Her words harm me as much as they help me, and I attempt to tap my nail a little harder, blinking and swallowing past the lump of emotion that suddenly appeared in my throat. I blame my absence of emotional control on my jet lag and lack of caffeine. Erica and Julian are the closest thing I had to a family, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect it to change once they started their own.
“I know, and thank you, but I really need to have some space of my own to do this, okay?”
While I love Erica, and she loves me, she really doesn’t get it. She has a family who adores her, who’d never dream of getting rid of her childhood mementos or baby clothes. They were most likely wrapped in soft tissue paper, kept safe and cherished, just like she is. Although I’d never wish for her to have experienced otherwise, it’s hard to not be a little jealous.
“Okay.” She relents, even though I can tell she doesn’t want to.
Luckily, the line of people behind me means she has to keep moving.
I give Erica a small smile, letting her know we’re okay, before I pick up my coffee and find a place to sit.
First of that, there is no doubt.
“Well, you seem to be popular here,” I say with a quick glance over to where two staff members stand, smiling and looking over in our general direction. “I didn’t get this much attention before you arrived.”
“It’s probably not quite what you think,” Marcus says with a small smile, not bothering to look over at the counter to confirm what I’d said for himself.
“I’ll have to take your word on it.”
His word hadn’t meant anything to me for a long time—and for a good reason.
Something must have changed in my facial expression to give away my train of thought because Marcus leans forward, his large hand coming to rest over my wrist.
“Hal,” he says, pausing as if my nickname on his tongue takes a moment to get around.
My eyes are locked on where our skin touches, his palm hot and overly distracting. His fingertips rest against my pulse point, giving it a squeeze.
I breathe.
I need him to let go.
Lifting my eyes toward his, I notice they no longer seem as cold or as hard. It might be a trick of the light, but if anything, they burn with a banked heat.
“We should really catch up at some point, just the two of us.”
I pull my arm back, dropping both hands into my lap. I rub where he’d been holding, as if I could massage his touch away. The first touch between us in the better part of a decade. As concerned as I might be for my own welfare, I don’t miss the way Marcus’s jaw stiffens at my actions. As if knowing he’s crossed a line, he shifts again ever so slightly, and the space he’d taken up a moment ago widens.
“Can I get back to you on that?” I ask. “I’ve got a lot going on at the moment.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I have four weeks here, time off to specifically deal with my life. Four weeks until his brother’s wedding, where we have to act under the pretense of getting along—at least in front of others.
His face is back to neutral, the getting-along-in-public face that’s only managed to break character once so far. “Of course. You just let me know what works for you.”
You would’ve thought he was talking to a work colleague—just the amount of impartial distance I want and need.
He looks down at his phone on the table, a small frown line taking up residence between his brows, and I make my decision quickly. I tell myself it’s so we can be around each other more easily for the sake of organizing the joint bachelor and bachelorette party.
“Okay, well, I don’t want to hold you up—just give me a call later. I’m sure Julian will be able to give you my number. He’s always known how to get in touch.” I don’t completely mean to say it as a parting shot, but that’s exactly what it sounds like as the words leave my mouth.
Both Marcus and I know there’s always been a way for him to reach out to me, and he never chose to do so. There’s the past, the present, and the truth to be considered between the two of us, and there’s no point pretending otherwise.