Whenever I’d envisioned seeing her again, which was more often than I’d like to admit, I always pictured myself winning.
I had a secure job that paid me well; I’d already had two promotions at twenty-seven, was the most fit I’d ever been — thanks to my lack of sleep lately — and I still had all my hair and teeth.
Bonus for me.
But Maddy?
She won by simply existing.
Her bouncy hair was like a breath of fresh air in that dim police station. Her small white teeth bit down on her bottom lip, as her blue eyes raked me over with skepticism.
She was wearing black yoga tights and a tank top that said, “Will work out for wine.”
“Have a seat,” I said, voice hoarse.
She pulled out a chair, just as I grabbed my pad and pen. The silence in the office was deafening as if everyone was waiting for me to do something stupid.
I drummed my fingertips against the table then abruptly stood. “Why don’t we do this over coffee down the street? I’m fresh out, and if I have to sit and take notes about more damn signs, I’m going to lose it.”
She opened her mouth, probably to object, but I wasn’t used to rejection.
Not really.
The only woman who’d ever accomplished it was most likely hell-bent on doing it again. This time I wasn’t going to let her. It was just coffee.
I marched toward the door.
Thankfully, she followed.
Side by side, we walked down the street. The summer air felt oddly brisk, and the wind picked up enough to sting my cheeks. I should offer her a coat.
But I’d left it at the office.
And I wasn’t feeling very giving in that moment.
The last time I’d seen this woman, she’d rejected me.
Rejected us.
Our future.
More silence as we walked to the local Moxie Coffee. I put in my order and looked down at her.
She ordered a black coffee.
I paid for both and then sat down.
Again, she followed.
I wasn’t used to her being this silent.
Things between us had been anything but.
We’d gotten detention so many times in high school for being anything but, that eventually they just started sending us together, mainly because we were always talking and joking around. It drove our teachers crazy, even though I was sure they’d thought it was cute that we were so close.
It was rare to fall in love with your best friend and next-door neighbor at the age of eight and then propose to her on the day of your high school graduation.
But she is it for me.