Page 122 of Timelessly Ours

I offer Mrs. Matthews a friendly smile and let her know I’ll pick Rory up at three. The woman has warmed up to me. Sort of. If you can call no longer acting like one of her students was walked to school by Cruella de Vil, progress, well then, we’ve made progress.

I’m fidgety when I get home. Which is odd because I didn’t have any of the coffee I made earlier since I screwed it up twice and didn’t bother with a third time.

I settle for lemon water and sit on the back porch in Coach’s sweatshirt. Letting my mind daydream the way it has been for the last few days.

I want to be a part of this new world I’d somehow been pulled into. I want it so badly.

It’s pure and filled with love, laughter, games…honesty.

Being here for Rory has been everything. Loving her and treating her as my own has been a gift I never want to take for granted.

But my mind keeps going back to what Pamela keeps telling me I need so I can truly let go and enjoy this.

Closure.

I know she means my mother, and possibly my father if he ever comes out of whatever rock he’s hiding under. But there’s no way I’m ready to confront my mother. She doesn't deserve it.

There are other people who hurt me. People who were toxic but loved me in their own special way.

Like Sylvie.

The last time I saw Sylvie, the night Coach found me a few blocks away on the ground, I stole one of her bottles, left my car keys, and took off.

That’s not how I wanted to end that relationship. I want to let her know that I’m better now. Yes, I’m technically still in recovery and might always be, but I’m happy.

No matter what happens with Royce and Rory, I know what I want. What I’m worth.

And maybe I can convince her that it’s not too late for her.

My chest tightens. I can’t go back there. I made a promise to never set foot in that place again.

My leg twitches and I consider the stakes. And then…the reward. I have to do this.

Perhaps Sylvie is a good place to start. Then my brother…with the whole truth. Then Angel and maybe three or four years from now…my parents.

I check the time on my phone.

Sylvie’s opens early for the afternoon crowd. If I get there at one, I can have a quick chat with my old friend, have my closure, offer my advice and get back in time to pick up Rory.

It’ll be fine.

Royce: I’m thinking roast chicken for dinner.

Nicole: Sure. I might have eggplant. I’m not really feeling chicken.

Royce: Whatever you want. I’ll pick it up. What are you up to? Want to come by my office and…hang out?

Nicole: I can’t. I’m going to therapy.

Royce: Didn’t you just go on Friday?

Nicole: I feel like sneaking one in today.

Royce: Okay. Is everything alright?

Nicole: It will be.

I groan. “Why did you have to ask me what I’m doing?”