“It wasn’t exactly planned.”
He gives me a pointed glance. “If you’re searching for things to worry about, you’ll find them.”
I sit with those words for a while. The more I think about it, the more they resonate. “Thanks, Lev.”
“For what?”
“Your advice.”
He seems mildly amused by that. “Sure.”
A few minutes later, we pull up outside Chris’s apartment. It’s a nice building, but worn. The bricks are sun-bleached and water stains dip low beneath the gutters.
“Will you wait out here for me?” I ask.
“Definitely not.”
I sigh. “Really, Lev?”
“I’ll stay outside of the apartment unit if you want, but I’m coming into the building with you.”
I don’t bother arguing. I already know what the end result will be. So I nod in defeat and get out of the car.
I give Chris’s apartment a buzz, but get nothing in response. I try again.
“Maybe he’s out?” Lev suggests, leaning casually against the wall.
“That’s his car parked over there,” I point out. “He’s definitely in. And he wouldn’t ignore his bell.”
“Maybe he knows it’s you.”
I throw him a dirty look and smash the button a couple more times. The buzzer is a loud, annoying sound. He wouldn’t just sit and listen to it. If I keep this up for another few minutes, I’m sure he’ll cave and let me into the building.
Five minutes later, though, I’m starting to get angry. “Jesus!” I growl. “I get that he’s angry, but this is just childish.”
“Give him some space.”
“I was going to, but I thought we needed to have a conversation first.”
Lev raises his eyebrows. “I think you’re missing the point.”
“You don’t understand, Lev. He basically told me that he no longer wants to be friends with me. I can’t just let him get his way.” I can feel myself getting emotional. I bite down on my tongue and look up at the building. “Wait—sometimes he takes the bus to his parents’ house because parking in their area is a nightmare.”
Hoping to God he’s with them, I dial his mom’s cell number. She answers after a couple of rings.
“Jessa, dear, it’s been so, so long!”
I instantly feel bad for not making more of an attempt to keep in touch. Despite my rift with Chris, I’d invited them to the wedding. But they’d been in Portugal visiting their daughter and couldn’t make it.
Thank God, in retrospect.
“I know, Mrs. Eckhart. How are you?”
“Fine, dear. We’re doing just fine. I heard about what happened with Dane. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a good thing.”
“You know what? I agree. After everything that Chris told us about him, I’m glad the wedding didn’t happen.”