Page 70 of The Deals We Make

But really, I’m hoping he’ll…

I stop myself when I realize where the thought is going.

I’m not a silly teenage girl trying to impress a boy, and yet, that’s what I want to do. I want to show him I’m a grown-up. I want to show him I’m capable of handling this maturely. And I want him to take me into those strong arms of his and kiss my face off.

Or something like that.

I check my watch. I know Melanie will be back to the house shortly. So, I step upstairs and check in on Mom. She’s sleeping while some crime procedural plays in the background.

I tug my coat off the hook, slip on my new boots that were delivered this afternoon, and jog out to the drive, but I miss him. He’s already in his mom’s house.

My breath catches as the cold air hits the back of my throat.

The right thing to do is knock on Mrs. Williams’s door, but something stops me.

“Big-girl pants,” I mutter to myself.

I force myself across the drive and knock on the door. When it opens, Mrs. Williams meets my expectations.

“I was wondering if you’d get the nerve to come by,” she says.

She’s aged. Not like Mom has, but in the silver sprinkle of gray that weaves through her hair and the additional lines around her eyes and mouth that tell me she’s laughed a lot since I last saw her.

“Hello, Mrs. Williams.”

She folds her arms, not stepping out of the way and ushering me in from the cold like she always used to. It’s so Omari to make me work for it.

“I owe you an apology. It’s hard to articulate all the things I’m sorry for. But running without properly explaining why is perhaps the biggest. I’m sorry I left you all behind, but on another day, I’ll come and explain it all to you with Tiberius.”

Omari narrows her eyes. “You better. And you’re not forgiven. Yet.”

“I completely understand.”

Finally, she stands back, but she doesn’t give me one of her famous hugs. The kind where you just disappear into her arms, pressed up against her cushiony frame, and take a breath for a moment.

And I hadn’t realized how much I needed one until right this moment.

“I know we’re not friends again, yet, but I could really do with one of your hugs.”

Her eyes soften for a moment, and she finally opens her arms to me.

It feels just like I remember. The warmth and quiet strength of home. She always treated me like one of her own kids, and in the last decade, I’ve been starved for a mother’s hug.

“Calista,” Vex says as he steps into the hallway.

Mrs. Williams releases me. “I’ll let the two of you talk, but you better come see me before you disappear to the other side of the country again.”

I nod and realize that I’m a little choked up. But I bite back the tears. I don’t want this to be apoor mespeech. And it’s so weak to stand before a man, trying to be serious, with tears and mascara dripping down your face.

“Hey,” I say, when Mrs. Williams has disappeared toward the kitchen.

“That was some childish shit, running from my house like we did something wrong,” he says.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. To apologize. I should have told you I was leaving.”

Vex raises his arm, placing his fingertips on the doorframe above him. It’s cold, he’s standing in a long-sleeve Henley, and I can still see the delicious pop of his bicep. “Or you should have stayed and talked with me about whatever it was that spurred you into bolting from my home in the dark.”

“Can you talk now?”