“But I take your point,” I added.
“Wiley, I hope you believe me when I say I’m sorry about everything. I really am. I fucked up big time.”
“You could say that.”
“And I would not be wrong?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Are you ever going to forgive me?”
“I’m trying.”
“It’s nice to see you making jokes. You can be a little scary when you’re mad—I hope I never see you like that again. Remember the first time we argued?”
I smiled.
“I bought you chocolate and flowers, and you dumped them in the parking lot at Food World and walked away. Man, what a bitch! But I deserved it.”
“You certainly did,” I agreed. “And if I remember, it was for the same reason.”
“I know.”
He said nothing further. Instead he put his arm around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder and let him hold me. He rubbed at my back, the way I did with Noah, comforting me, telling me that he was there, that it was all right, that everything was going to be all right.