Letting out a sigh, as I walk into the living room, I remind myself not to fall down the rabbit hole. Usually, I’m alright during the day, but it’s at night, that affects me the most. Needing a distraction, I decide to call Kendra, and thank her for taking care of me, while I was under the weather. Granted, she looked ridiculous in a mask, but I can’t blame her. The last thing I wanted was for her to get sick, so I kept the jokes about her mask to myself. Picking up my phone, I start to do just that, when I hear a knock at the door.
Frowning, I get up and set my phone back down, wondering who it could be. I’ve banned Ava from coming over, because until I know I’m one hundred percent healthy again, I don’t want to risk her taking any germs back home to her kids. Not thinking anything about my mysterious visitor, I open the door, and then instantly frown.
My heart races, seeing him standing inches away from me, holding three containers of what looks like soup in his hand. For a moment, we can only look at one another, and I try my hardest not to remember every second of our time together, and every single sensation he made me feel.
But no matter how much time or distance I put between us, it seems I’m incapable of shaking Sebastian Matvei from my life or my heart.
“I brought soup,” he states, as he gives me the containers.
“Um, thanks.” Holding the food with both hands, I add, “I’ll be back at work this weekend.” I have no idea if that’s the reason why he’s here or not, but I refuse to ask. I don’t want to feel any sort of hope that he’s actually here for me, and then be disappointed to find out otherwise.
Which is why I’m shocked to my core, when he asks, “Can we talk?”
It’s not because of the question asked, it’s because of the way he says it. There is a sadness in his voice, and as I stare into those green eyes, I realize there is pain laced in them.
Unable to deny him, I stand aside, as I say, “Sure. Come in.”
With a nod, he walks into my apartment, and I slowly shut the door, hoping this isn’t a mistake. Making my way towards the fridge, I place the containers of food inside, wondering if I’ll be able to eat all of it, before it goes bad. Shutting it, I glance at him, sitting on the couch. My chest clenches, seeing him sitting there, like he still belongs here. Sighing, I will myself to push away the urge to go to him, and then wrap my arms around him.
“Thank you. For the soup, I mean,” I manage to say, scolding myself for being so nervous around him. It’s hard to act normal around him, which is why I usually avoid him at work.
“I made chicken noodle, tomato, and potato soup for you.” I don’t dare move from where I’m standing, because something inside of me, is telling me not to. My instincts are screaming to let him talk. “When you told me you were sick, I wanted to come over and take care of you.”
He’s not even looking at me, as he talks, and I wonder if that’s the only way he’s getting through his words. “Then I realized, I couldn’t come over, because you wouldn’t want me to, and then, I decided to make you soup. That’s what my mom made me, when I was sick, so I thought you’d like that.”
Swallowing down the sudden lump in my throat, as he glances to me, I freeze, seeing the sorrow, staring right back at me. “I don’t even know what kind of soup you like. I don’t know what your favorite drink is, or what foods you hate. I don’t know how you like your coffee, or what your favorite TV shows are.” His jaw clenches, as he looks away, and I get the feeling he’s angry at himself, but I don’t understand why.
Walking across the room, I take a seat beside him, and then ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because Trixie, I didn’t want to know them, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.” I frown, as my stomach drops, thinking this conversation is starting off terrible. But then, he quietly says, “Losing you, made me realize I’ve been lying to myself. The moment you gave me your bracelet, I knew there was something different about you, and that makes me want to get to know you.”
My brain literally stops working, as I listen to him, and all I can do is sit here and listen. He turns towards me, and my eyes widen, as he says, “What I do know is I can’t keep pretending anymore. I’ve tried to forget you and everything about you. I’ve tried to push you away, but yet, you’re here.” He claims, as he points to his chest. “Every single day. You were right to call me out, because I fucked up.”
He stops for a moment, and I’m speechless. When I woke up this morning, all I wanted was to feel normal again. I had no idea he would show up at my doorstep, and then admit all of this.
“It’s time that you know why I am the way that I am.” All I can do is nod, because apparently, I’ve lost the ability to speak. Honestly, I fear
