Chapter 7 #2
“Of course. I mean, he did suggest that maybe this was some wild scheme to win me back, but I assured him that you weren’t secretly still in love with me.
” She giggles nervously as she smoothes a loose strand of hair behind one ear like the idea is preposterous.
When I don’t join in, her laughter dies off.
Honesty breeds honesty. That’s what my stupid self-help book claimed, anyway.
Fuck. I can’t believe I’m about to say what I’m about to say. But she was very honest with me just now and the least I can do is return the favour.
“He’s not entirely wrong, Madness.” I meet her gaze head on not wanting there to be any miscommunication between us.
“I am still in love with you. Very much so, in fact. I expect I always will be. I know that you don’t feel the same way and that’s okay.
I promise, I’m not trying to fuck up the life you’ve built for yourself.
I have no plans to interfere in your relationship with the man you chose.
There was a time in my life where I might have been selfish enough to try.
But I’m not that guy anymore. If you’re happy, I’m happy for you. And I want you to be so happy, Mads.”
Her clear eyes have clouded over and the thought that my words are hurting her sends a pang of grief through my heart, but I make myself continue.
“I know this is a lot and I’m sorry to put you through this after so many years.
But I wanted to be honest with you, because I owe you that.
” And so much more. “If you’re not comfortable working with me now that I’ve said all this, I completely understand.
I’ll withdraw from the project. Hell, I’ll even find you someone better to take my place.
I promise. Unlike you, I happen to know a lot of athletes. ”
She manages a little laugh at that, her professional armour cracking the tiniest bit.
“But if you think you could still be okay doing this, working together, I’m all in. Like you said,” I give her a sad smile. “We were friends. Before everything. We could be friends again. Or at least try to be.”
She considers me for a long moment, sifting through the bits and pieces of wreckage after I’ve just dropped this bomb on her.
After what seems like an eternity, at least to me, she gives an almost imperceivable nod.
“Okay. Let’s try to be friends.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” I exhale so hard my chest almost caves in. “Holy shit, I didn’t see that coming.”
“You didn’t see that coming? Are you kidding me right now? How do you think I feel?” And then she’s laughing, loud and unrestrained, the sound spilling off her lips, unpolished and unfiltered.
I start to chuckle, and once I do, I can’t stop.
It bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, rolling out in waves, infectious and easy.
We clutch our sides, gasping between peals of laughter, feeding off each other’s energy like we did when we were kids until we’re breathless, eyes shining, cheeks aching.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I forget everything. The weight on my shoulders, the uncertainty clawing at the edges of my thoughts. It all disappears. Right now, it’s just her and me, laughing in a way that feels as natural as breathing.
And God, I missed this. I missed her.
“Well, now I understand why you didn’t want to address these questions and concerns over email.” She says, collapsing back against her chair.
“Nah.” I wipe the moisture from the corner of my eyes. “I’ve always been an auditory learner. I process things best when I receive them orally.”
Well done, Michaels. That sounded awful.
She blushes instantly, setting her tea down with a shake of her head, but her smile is betraying her. “Wow.” She breaks the word into three syllables.
I give her a look of mock disapproval and sigh like I’m exasperated.
“Oh, come on, Madness. That’s clearly not what I meant.
If we’re going to work together, I’m going to need a bit more professionalism on your part.
Please. If not for my sake, for the children we’re trying to help. Think of the children.”
Maddy’s eyes roll into the back of her head. “I’ll try to do better,” she says, dryly. “For the children.”
“That’s all I ask.”
A notification sounds on her laptop and she sits up, like she’s just remembered she’s at work. “I have to jump on a Zoom call in a few minutes.”
“I’ll let you get on with your day.” We stand, both seemingly unsure on how we’re supposed to part ways. “Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice.”
“Of course. Thank you for agreeing to do this.” She walks me to the door. “I’ll be in touch with more details soon. There will be a lot of meetings and events—you’re going to be sick of me.”
Not possible.
“Sounds good,” I say with a nod. “You know my number.”
A small giggle escapes her.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you still have your old number from PEI,” she says, shaking her head.
I feel a prickle of heat creep up my neck as I shrug nonchalantly. “It still works.” I’ll never admit it, but the real reason I kept the same number all these years was the hope that one day she might call. I tap the shiny name plate on her office door. “Have a good day, Ms. Clairmont.”
“You too.”
I walk away feeling lighter than when I walked in, but still conflicted.
Part of me is thrilled. The idea of spending time with her again, of being around her after so many years apart, is almost too good to believe. I never thought I’d get that chance. Never let myself hope for it. And yet, here it is, right in front of me.
But it’s bittersweet.
What if we’ve changed too much? If time has reshaped us into people who no longer fit together the way we once did?
Or worse, what if we haven’t changed? What if we still click, still spark, still feel just as effortless as we did back then? And what if this watered-down version of us—this cautious, almost dangerous thing we’re trying to build—only leaves me wanting more?
What if I can’t be just her friend?
“Ben?”
I turn to find Maddy standing in her doorway. Her left hand is resting against the doorframe and I try to ignore the engagement ring that glints in the light.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you agree to be an ambassador?” Her expression is hesitant. Like she’s not sure if she wants to know the answer.
“I did it for you. Later, Madness.” I walk away from her like it’s easy. But it’s not. It never will be.