“Hello?”
“Rowan.” My sigh of relief nearly deflates me. I keep holding the button down to talk. “I’m sorry. I can explain. I— please. Will you come down?”
“Not a chance,” she responds. It appears she was choosing not to answer her phone. “You’re the one who ghosted me. I’m not interested in going out with a jerk. Sorry. Find someone else you can string along.”
“I wasn’t stringing you along!” I don’t know if she can still hear me, but I punch the button down and keep talking. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone the night we were at the barn. I didn’t even realize it was missing until Sunday morning. I looked all over for it. I didn’t think there was any way I could have left it at the barn because I thought I had it when I got home. I spent all this time looking for it. I went back to the barn, but I didn’t find it, so I looked some more. Everywhere. I finally went back to the barn again, and this time, I did find it. Unfortunately, I ran out of gas on the way home. I had to walk to a farmyard, and I swear it was eight miles away, and use their phone to get a tow truck to bring me some gas. I then was able to turn the car on and charge my phone, and when I saw all your messages, I drove straight here. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ghost you.”
“Oh, really?” Rowan snaps, proving she can still hear me. “That’s ridiculous. You could have just gotten a new phone. It’s not like you couldn’t afford one.”
Wow, that’s a pretty low blow, especially coming from her. But I know she’s pissed and probably doesn’t mean it.
“I didn’t have your number. I borrowed my dad’s cell and phoned your work and asked for you yesterday, but they said you didn’t work there anymore. I know it’s because of me, and I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Is that why you’re here?” she asks, after a long pause.
“No. Yes. No. Sort of?” I realize I’m not making this any easier for myself. “I didn’t know how to contact you other than through your work number.”
“You could have emailed. Or did you lose your computer too?”
“Email? Shit. I never even thought of that. I was so preoccupied with trying to find it that I didn’t even think of it.”
“You know where I live. What’s your excuse for the past five days?”
“I didn’t know which one was your apartment.”
“You seem to have done okay tonight.”
“I literally buzzed the first seven before I got to you.”
“And that probably took all of a few minutes. Sorry to have put you out.”
I swallow thickly. My chest is on fire. I know I’m going to have to just come out and tell her how I really felt the past few days, and well, that kind of sucks because it means I have to stand out here on the doorstep in front of an intercom and spill some more of my deep, dark, insecure secrets. I know I probably don’t have any other choice.
“I thought maybe it was some sign from the universe trying to tell me I’m just not made for this.”
“Or maybe it was just another excuse or a way out for you.”
“No. It definitely was not that.”
“The universe? Give me a break. You really thought you were supposed to be alone by some kind of divine rules? That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Believe me,” I grind out, breathing hard. “My phone was not easy to find. I spent a lot of time looking for it. I searched the entire barn. Twice. I finally did find it, pushed up under the stall we, uh, stood in front of. It was dead, so that made it even harder. I thought about you constantly.”
“But you never thought to check your email.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think to check it. I didn’t even open my laptop these past few days. I literally spent almost all day, every day looking for my phone so I could call you. Or text you. I’m sorry. I would never just ghost you. Not after…”
“Not after we banged like rabbits in the barn? Yeah, that would be in bad taste. Just saying. I’m surprised you’re here right now. I would have thought divine signals from the earth would have kept you away. The running out of gas thing was probably a sign.”
I wince because the whole neighborhood can probably hear this. “Except it happens all the time.”
“Oh, but this time, I think it really was a sign. You shouldn’t fuck with nature, Cliff. It can have drastic consequences.”
“Look, that was a stupid thing to say. I get it. Can you please just open the door for me and let me come up and explain what I actually mean? I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I wasn’t ghosting you, Rowan, I swear it. I would never do that. Please believe me.”
“Why?” She grinds out, but I’m sure I hear a note of reluctance when it comes to staying mad, and it gives me the slightest glimmer of hope. “You’re the one who wanted to stay single. An avowed bachelor? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that term used with your name before.”
“Please, Rowan, let me up.”
“No way.”
“I made a stupid mistake. I should have checked my email. I was so frantic about my phone that I didn’t even think of it.”
“You could have called my work number. You have my business card.”
“I, uh, I actually kind of misplaced it.” I sound like an idiot making excuses, and I know it.
“You could have asked your mom for it.”
