Page 115 of Becoming Us

I shrugged. “I don’t want to go to my dad’s birthday party. It’s fucking ridiculous, considering…” I trailed off, sighing. “Plus, my mom. And all her bullshit. I wish I didn’t have to go through it alone, but I also don’t want to ask and hear him say no. Again.”

“What made him say no the first time?”

I rolled my shoulders back and bit the inside of my cheek. I felt like a four-year-old bringing it up. It was a tantrum. Why dwell?

“He’d been skipping classes. His TA told him he had to get his act together or he might lose his scholarship. That was my fault too. I asked him to stay with me all the time, and he was terrible at saying no.”

“Until then,” Samuel pointed out.

I nodded. “Until then. He didn’t tell me all of that either—only when we were fighting—and then I was too upset to backtrack. I wasn’t exactly great at regulating my emotions back then.”

“Exactly, Noah.”

I glanced up at him, baffled. “What?”

“You didn’t know how to handle it then, but you do now. It’s not the same thing. Is Atticus the same man you were dating back then?”

I shook my head instantly. Atty was still very much himself, but no, he wasn’t the same. He was better. Stronger. More confident.

“Is he a better listener?”

“Atty’s always been a great listener.”

“Okay. Then is he better at having an honest conversation? Even a hard one?”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “He’s been really adamant about having all the uncomfortable conversations we need to make things work.”

“Then I think you can tell him why you want him there. Why it matters to you,” Samuel said.

I shrugged again, eyes drifting to my lap.

“It’s not the same, Noah. Back then, Atticus was your crutch. You needed him to help you stand, and when he said no, it destabilized you—completely. But now, you’ve learned how to walk on your own two feet. And the reason you want him there this time isn’t to hold your weight—it’s to hold your hand. To support you while you go through something difficult.”

My eyes prickled slightly. “Because we’re a team.”

“Yes, Noah. And you know that the stakes were higher before. You’re not there right now.”

I nodded slowly.

“And while we’re on that subject,” he added, voice softening.

My eyes drifted back to his. His expression was full of sympathy when he asked, “Have you written the letter I asked you to?”

“I haven’t gotten to it.”

“It might help, Noah. You haven’t given yourself closure.”

I knew that. I wasn’t sure I wanted it. Closure was very…definitive. Like death. Maybe even more so. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good.” A loaded pause followed. “Have you told Atticus about your mother?”

He might as well have poured a bucket of ice water down my back.

“No. It hasn’t come up.”

“If he’s going to meet her, don’t you think he should have the full picture?”

Well, yeah. Probably. But it’s not like he’s going to see it firsthand. She never does it in front of people. She hasn’t in a long time, actually. It’s not even that?—