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"Hi," I say, my hesitation evident in my voice.

"Hi," he responds, a smirk forming at his lips.

"Don't do that," I scowl.

"What?"

"That face."

"You don't like my face?"

"Oliver!" I grumble. "You know that's not what I mean."

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm just..." he struggles.

"Being difficult?" I suggest.

"I'm just happy."

"That's a word I don't associate with you."

"Alright, Lucy," he snickers.

Bickering is something we've never done before. Even when we were dating, we'd joke and laugh, but our arguments were loud. Well, the one argument we've had.

I already know what got him in a good mood, though, and the answer is fairly simple. If the really does still have feelings for me, he must be happy that we're working things out. But just because we make up, doesn't mean we will be a couple again.

"Do you want some coffee?" I ask, ready to get right into the discussion we're about to have.

"No, thank you," he responds.

"Okay, well, come sit down," I suggest, pointing to the couch.

Our living space is fairly small, but it's open plan, so it feels a lot bigger. I pour myself a cup of coffee, and sit down ln the couch. Oliver sits on one end, and I on the other. There's only about a metre between us, but it surprisingly doesn't bother me.

I take a deep breath, waiting for Oliver to begin the conversation.

"I'm sorry things got so intense yesterday," he says. "I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm just glad you were honest with me."

"It's no excuse," he shakes his head. "None of that should've happened. I dealt with it in the wrong way."

"I can't deny that," I say. "But I shouldn't have been so quick to assume you didn't love me."

"That's what you thought?" he scowls. "Lucy, I swear-."

"That's why I was so angry. I felt like our entire relationship meant nothing, and I blamed you for taking my brother away. I just got so hostile, without even considering your perspective."

"That's a justified response, Lucy. Of course that's how you'd feel. I shouldn't have given you a reason to think that way."

"I should've considered your perspective."

"There was no way you could've. You said you never received any messages from me?"

"That's right," I nod. "I changed my number, but that doesn't explain why I never got any mail. At least, you said you sent me some things?"

"I did, and I can't figure out how all my post can go missing, unless someone took it."

I scoff. "Who would take your mail?"

"Anyone who works for Ferrari Freight who knows about us, but doesn't want us together."

"You think someone in your company, who saw you mail things to me, stole that mail, because they didn't want me to receive it?" I frown, trying to make sense of it.

"I know it sounds weird, but I doubt one of our friends would take it."

"What if someone paid an employee to steal your mail?" I fake a gasp.

"Lucy, this is serious."

"I just find it hard to believe," I laugh.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I get hundreds of death threats a day. You could be in danger, so I'm going to have it looked into."

The word danger freaks me out.

"Okay, okay," I sigh. "I guess its worth it to find out why I never received anything."

"Good," he says. "What I'm really trying to say is, it's been three years with not a word from me. It only makes sense to be angry."

"But you were trying to reach out to me, I just never received anything," I say.

"I should've flown out to see you after the first year," he grumbles, clearly frustrated.

"There would've been no point. It was like something switched inside me, and I was furious. What you should've done, is tell me as soon as you found out you were moving, or at least answer my emails when you arrived in Milan," I can't help but snap.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

"It's. okay, it's okay," I shake my head, calming myself down.

"I completely fucked up."

"I'm not angry anymore. I understand."

"Are you sure?"

"I understand your perspective now," I say.

It's true. Yeah, he should've handled it better, but it's in the past. Clinging on to it will do me more harm than good.

"Lucy, you have no idea how much of a relief that is."

"I think we should just start fresh," I say.

I don't want to worry about this anymore. If we want to be friends, we need to start over. I need to let go of what happened, and he can't keep feeling guilty about it. It's like a dark cloud in my head constantly, and now it turns out it wasn't even necessary.

The things I believed, about him playing me, wasn't even true. He didn't reach out to me that first year because he was afraid. I can't hold that against him. It's an emotional response, just like how angry I got when I found out he was leaving.

now we know, in emotional situations, he shuts down, and I yell. Neither of which, are healthy.

"Are you happy?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I nod. "For the most part."

He opens his mouth to respond, but he hesitates. He wants to ask further, but he know's he cant. It's not his place to look after me anymore.

"Well, that's as much anyone can ask for huh?" he says instead.

Silence falls over the room. I reach over to the coffee table to get my drink, but it's already cold. Cold coffee is a solid no.

"Do you want me to make you a new one?" Oliver asks, reading my thoughts.

He's always been like this; looking after me, feeding me, helping me and supporting me. It's both a blessing and a curse.

"No, I'll make some later."

"Aretta said you have to write an essay today," he says. "Liam said you're studying English."

"Unsurprisingly."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I haven't decided yet. Do you enjoy your new job?" I tease.

"I haven't seen my father in two years, so I can't complain," he smirks.

Stefan Ferrari is a fucking dick. He must feel so much more relaxed now, but on the other hand, I doubt he could be relaxed with so much more pressure on him.

His mother, on the other hand, is an angel. I've stayed in contact with her a little, and she even came to visit me once. She was sad when we broke up, but she understood we were still young. I'm sure she'll have a field day when she finds out we made up, and so would my dad. He loved Oliver far before I started dating him.

"Is it too soon to ask you to be my date to the fundraiser?"

"Yes," I say, my response too quickly.

He purses his lips, looking away from me.

"You're right, I'm sorry I asked.

"You should take someone else,"I suggest, but the words taste toxin in my lips

"I'm not bringing anyone else."

"But you shouldn't-"

"I don't want to take anyone else," he continues. "I don't want to be with anyone else."

"Oliver," I sigh.

"I want to take you. I want you there."

"I will be there," I say. "But not as your date."

"I understand," he nods.

"You did the right thing by coming here today."

"Well, it's a lot easier to run and hide when you're on the other side of the world."

I laugh at him. He's definitely not wrong.

"Well," he nods hesitantly. "I should probably leave you to do."

He stands up from the couch, walking over to the door before I can stop him. I'm not sure what to say, but I don't necessarily want him to leave just yet.

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