I walked into her room, that nervous, jittery feeling humming in my body like an electrical current I couldn’t shut off. It buzzed in my chest, made my hands twitch slightly at my sides. I just needed to talk to her. I just needed to make sure that what happened between us—what had just unfolded like something out of a dream—could somehow either continue, or at the very least, that we could return to what we had been before it happened. Before I crossed a line that maybe never should’ve been crossed.
Because, honestly—and this was the simple truth—I missed her. I missed Cora. I missed the version of her that used to call me about every little thing, who’d send me pictures of the cakes she baked, the cupcakes she decorated, the ridiculous decorations she’d set up in the café. I missed her
