One month. We let it breathe.
Nothing except for a brief exchange inviting me to a gallery opening. Not as his date. He had to co-host with his graphic-design friend.
I debated on going. He insisted – he’d been collaborating on this project the whole time we were seeing each other so he wanted me there.
As soon as he saw me, he held me long and hard against the length of his body. In the middle of everyone, everything.
The tension eased out of me. I let it.
When he walked me to my car, he did it again, except this time, his reluctance to let go was palpable. Eventually, he released me and stepped back, drawing my hands out in front of me. They were warm in his.
We said very little.
I miss him a lot, but I know it is better this way. He will always mean a lot to me – I have resigned myself to this.
No easy thing.