Cal nodded, and then his face split into an enormous grin.
“Remember when you tried to play matchmaker?” he asked.
I slapped him on the arm. “It was an honest mistake,” I said. “It’s not like any of them were out back then. Harriet certainly wasn’t.”
“Oh, come on.” Cal gave me a disbelieving look. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?”
Of course, now it seemed obvious. But then?
“Did I know that Mason and LC were schtupping each other between interviews about their perpetual singleness?” I asked. “No. I had no idea.”
Cal laughed. “Schtupping?”
I tried to look affronted but couldn’t help smiling.
“Okay, okay,” I admitted. “In retrospect, LC and Harriet were not the perfect couple I imagined them to be.”
In the end, I hadn’t cared that my matchmaking didn’t work out. I’d cared that my best friend didn’t feel safe enough to tell me that she was gay. But things had been different then, and I’d been too wrapped up in my own straight-girl bullshit to pay close attention to anything else.
Was I making the same mistake now?
“You tried so hard,” Cal said. “It was adorable.”
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had called me adorable. Or the last time I’d blushed.
“I was young, innocent, and hopeful,” I said.
Cal snorted.
“Okay,” I said. “I was young.”
“We all were,” he said. “God, we were so young.”
“Stupid too,” I said.
“About that,” Cal said.
I sucked in a breath, worrying that this would topple our tentative peace and we’d be back to anger and resentment and bitterness.
But also, wondering what the hell he wanted to say about it. Did he regret what he’d said? Or what he hadn’t said? In some ways, that had hurt the most. His silence after the fact.
Well, no. Public humiliation hurt the most.
Especially when I had to face it completely alone.
“I owe you an apology,” Cal said.
I stopped abruptly. So abruptly that Cal had to backtrack a few steps after he noticed I wasn’t following him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
We kept walking. Until I stopped again.
“What?” he asked once more.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“For?”
“That apology,” I said.
I didn’t tell him that in a way, I’d been waiting over a decade for it. I hadn’t realized it before, but there it was. The need—the desire—to hear him admit that it wasn’t all my fault.
“I’m sorry,” Cal said. “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“Let what happen?” I asked. “The sex or everything else?”
“Both?” he said, and then he shook his head. “No. Everything else.”
We continued walking. It was cold, but nice. I had my hands in my pockets and the chill was tickling the apples of my cheeks and the tip of my nose.
“I was angry,” Cal said. “Really angry.”
“I know,” I said. “I am sorry about that.”
Because I was. Always had been.
He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
I lifted an eyebrow. It was the last thing I’d expected him to say.
“For years I believed that we’d wounded each other equally,” he said. “That my reaction measured up to yours, and that my hurt feelings meant it was all fair game. If you didn’t want me, you didn’t need me either. For anything.”
“I didn’t—”
He held up a hand. “I know,” he said.
Did he? Did he know what I’d been about to say? Did I?
“I didn’t know how bad it would get,” he said. “I didn’t think it would blow up that way. And once it did…” He let out a laugh that wasn’t humorous at all. “Honestly, I don’t think I took Ryan seriously enough. Couldn’t even imagine that he’d weaponize the whole situation the way he did.”
“He always did have hidden depths,” I said.
Cal stopped, turned toward me.
“Kathleen,” he said, “I am so sorry. For saying nothing. For doing nothing. For abandoning you.”
My throat was tight.
It was a very good apology.
“And I’m sorry for what I said that day.”
“Me too,” I said.
We walked.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
I felt strange. Like something had shifted but I wasn’t sure what. Or how it would feel tomorrow. Next week. Next month.
“This is me,” Cal said.
I walked him to the door. All the way to the door.
The top step was small and crowded, but neither of us noticed it until we were smushed there together. Cal moved back and stumbled. Both of us reached for the other, his hand landing on my biceps, mine gripping his forearm. Steadying him brought us closer together, something we both realized at exactly the same moment. We were too close.
It would be so easy to lift my head. To lean forward, just a tiny bit. To tug him against me. To kiss the hell out of him.
We both dropped our hands immediately, separating. I all but fell off the step, arms flailing. He reached out, but I managed to right myself without his help. We were both breathing heavily. The tips of his ears were red. My chest felt hot.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
“See you tomorrow,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
He stood there for a moment, both of us hesitating.
“Kathleen,” he said.
“Uh-huh?”
“Please go inside,” he said.
“I can’t,” I said.
He sucked in a breath.
“I don’t live here,” I reminded him.
He looked back at his door. At the keys in his hand.
“Oh,” he said. “Right.”