“Well…” He rubs his jaw, telling me that’sexactlywhat he thought. “Ithas been eight years.”
“Well…” I mimic. “Sorry none of my family members passed away sooner.”
Unexpectedly, he laughs. It’s not forced or brief. It’s deep and genuine and a melody I wish I could re-create. “You haven’t changed much.” He chuckles again. Shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that, June.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
Teddy should be able to call me whatever he wants without it bothering me. But it does. I haven’t been June in a long time.
Ilovedbeing June.
When I realize all my reaction gave away, I soften my tone. “Just…don’t,” I add. “Please.”
“Okay.” He nods once.
Always the good guy. Always accommodating. Always understanding. I love and hate it in equal measure.
“How long are you staying for?”
“Only until tomorrow. I’m leaving on the European leg of my tour next week. I need to get back to LA and prepare. Pack.”
Lies.
I’ve been rehearsing my performance for the past three months. I could sing and dance through my set list drunk, blindfolded, and asleep at this point.
My bags have been packed for weeks. I just wanted to limit my time here. And I’m staring at the reason why. Because as much as I tried to convince myself that this reunion would mean nothing, I had a persistent inkling it might not be that simple.
Some emotions are impervious to time and distance, it appears. I tried to believe the opposite.
Teddy nods. “Yeah. I saw you’re headed to Europe soon.”
That response piques more interest than I was prepared for. I wasn’t expecting Teddy to haveanyknowledge of my life now. Much less acknowledge following my career.
I debate asking. Open my mouth and debate. Close my mouth and debate. Finally, I just spit out the damn question, hurried and unfiltered. “Did you listen to it?”
He doesn’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about, which I appreciate—a lot. Although it’s hardly surprising. Of the two of us, I was usually the one who practiced avoidance.
“Yeah. It’s still on the radio all the time.”
I stare, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t. That’sit. That’s all he says.
“Um,and?”
Teddy cracks a smirk at my impatience, but it falls away fast. “I knew you’d make it, Sutton. Didn’t know my Yankees cap would play a small part, but I still knew.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Ineverknow what to say to him. Not then, not now. Somehow, I often say too much anyway.
He didn’t really answer what I was asking, and I know it was intentional. I also know it is probably for the best. This trip is about burying the past—literally. Not digging it up.
“Sutton Everett? Is that really you, dear?”
Mabel Joseph, Brookfield’s beloved busybody, hobbles over from the laundromat, using her cane, and I know that’s all the answer I’ll get.
“I’ll see you at the service,” Teddy says. He doesn’t wait for my nod before he turns and walks away.
Just like he did eight years ago.