He Always Said Yes, But Never Heard Me Until I Left Chapter 10

After officially starting my new job, I rented a new apartment.

I took a picture and shared it with my Close Friends on Instagram.

Reid couldn’t see it.

He only learned that I’d settled into my new city through a mutual friend.

My friend later told me he’d booked a flight there and asked her for my flight details and address.

She hadn’t given him either.

Reid hadn’t pressed her for an answer.

When she told me about it, I simply said, “You don’t need to tell me these things anymore.”

She agreed.

Reid eventually canceled his ticket.

While the cancellation was being processed, he sat alone in the airport departure lounge.

Flight announcements echoed around him. He held his earbuds in his hand but never put them in.

Only when his phone confirmed the cancellation did he get up and head back the way he’d come.

On Paige’s last day at the company, she approached Reid one more time.

She already had another job lined up and wanted to take him out for a meal.

Reid declined.

She lingered in his office doorway.

“She’s never coming back. How long are you going to keep this up?”

Reid held out her offboarding checklist.

It listed the accounts and files she needed to turn over, along with her remaining expense

reimbursements.

“If anything’s missing, have HR add it.”

Paige didn’t take the paperwork.

“Do you really not remember everything I did for you?”

He looked up at her.

“I remember.”

Her eyes brightened-for a moment.

But Reid was already setting the paperwork on the edge of his desk.

“That’s why I’ll make sure you’re paid everything you’re owed.”

Paige stood there for a long time. Finally, she took the paperwork and closed the door behind her.

I learned Paige had left the company when a former coworker mentioned it in passing.

At the time, I was finishing up at my computer, getting ready to submit my first report for a new

project.

I acknowledged the news and asked if we were still on for the dinner we’d planned.

She seemed taken aback for a moment, then said we were.

That afternoon, while sorting through some old photos, I left the shared photo album Reid and I had

used together.

I’d already downloaded all my photos. His were still there.

Reid was having dinner when his phone notified him that I’d left the album.

His mother was sitting beside him. Just as she started to speak, he instinctively raised a hand to

stop her.

Halfway through the gesture, he caught himself and lowered it.

“Mom, what were you saying?”

She told him the family was planning to sort through things at the old house and asked him to come

by when he had time to collect his belongings.

“Okay,” he said, opening his calendar to make a note of it.

His mother glanced at his phone.

“Does she still have things there?”

He paused.

“She’s taken everything.”

After dinner, Reid sat in his car and opened the shared album again.

The most recent photo was still one I’d uploaded a long time ago, a picture of dinner.

He studied it for a long time before closing the invitation screen without sending me another invite.

The final wedding refund came through as winter set in.

Reid transferred my share based on how much we’d each originally paid, along with an itemized

breakdown.

After checking the figures, I replied.

Me: [Got it.]

A little later, he sent another message.

Reid: [How have you been?]

Me: [Pretty good.]

I didn’t add anything else.

That weekend, Mom came to stay for a couple of days.

We went to a nearby farmers market. While she picked out fruit, I told her about a dish I’d recently

learned to make.

Halfway through my explanation, she bent down to pick up a bag.

Without thinking, I asked, “Did you hear me?”

As Mom started bagging the oranges, she picked up right where I’d left off.

“I heard you. Add the lemon juice right at the end. You added it too soon last time, right?”

I nodded and finished walking her through the recipe.

She suggested we make it for lunch and volunteered to wash the vegetables.

My phone buzzed inside my bag.

I stayed with Mom while the vendor weighed our fruit. It wasn’t until we’d left the market that I

took out my phone.

Reid had replied.

Reid: [That’s good.]

I closed the conversation and took one of the bags from Mom.

“Come on. Let’s go home and cook.”