“You’re too nice.” My voice breaks.
“I know.”
The pressure in my chest builds. “You’re not the one who ruined everything, it was me.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.” His tone softens. “You take the blame where it’s not needed. Sometimes life is crap, it isn’t anybody’s fault, it just happens. I hit on a married woman; that’s not your fault. You staying with Simon isn’t your fault either. As much as it kills me to say it.”
I don’t try to correct him. I don’t want him thinking I’m only calling him because I’ve split with Simon. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’m calling because I want to be happy; because I want my friend back. Even if that’s all we can ever be.
“Please think about coming back to class, if only for the kids’ sakes. I’ll even get Cameron to make you another card.”
For the first time his laughter sounds almost genuine. “I’ll think about it.”
We’re both silent for a moment. Not because there’s nothing to say—at least not on my part. It’s because there’s everything to say, but I know I can’t do it. I can’t tell him how much my life is changing. There are some things you can only tell somebody face to face, when you can see their reaction, understand their emotions. So I force myself to maintain my equilibrium, when all I want to do is let everything out.
“I suppose I should go,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Maybe we’ll see you soon?”
“Maybe.” His voice is soft. “I really do miss those guys, too.”
And me, I want to ask again. Do you miss me? Of course, I don’t. I bite my tongue and try to breathe, reminding myself this is just a start.
“Okay then, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
“You do that.” A pause. “And what about you? Are you okay??
??
When I answer him, I can feel myself smile. “You know what, Niall? I really think I’m going to be.”
20
Niall comes back to the clinic the following week. I’m sitting at the little desk in the corner of the classroom, making seating plans for the gala. Between the catering, auctions and entertainment, I’m not getting a whole lot of sleep. Maybe that’s why I don’t notice him at first. I’m too busy scratching off the O’Donahues and moving them to an empty table nearer the stage.
“Hi.” His voice is soft, but there’s a swagger to his gait as he walks into the room. It doesn’t seem like the walk of shame.
“You should have called,” I say. “I would have prepared a fatted calf.”
He glances down and smirks harder. “I’ve always thought you had slim legs.”
I’m taken aback, not only by his sudden reappearance, but also by his relaxed banter. His sudden volte-face is confusing. I shake my head, looking down so he can’t see my grin, and slowly write the O’Donahues’ name on their new table.
Play it cool, I tell myself.
“So what were you planning to do today?” I’m still staring at the table, but my smile hasn’t left. When I finally look up at him, he’s perched on the table, looking at the paper.
“What’s that?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“Plans for the clinic’s gala. I’m trying to work out the best placement. The poor Smithsons have been moved three times already.”
He laughs and pulls the paper toward him. “Where have you put me?”
“You’re coming?”
“Yeah, Elise invited me.” He notices my raised brow and quickly adds, “There’re a few of us from the gallery going. She’s asked me to donate a painting for the auction as well. I was going to talk to you about that.”
“About what?” I’m still shocked he’s even here. Let alone talking to me.
“The sort of painting I should donate. Whether there’s anything in particular you’re looking for.”