"You're back?" He heard himself ask, though he couldn't recall processing the response. He shifted, leaning his arm against the doorway, it still partially closed. By now, he'd have normally invited her in, but he was hesitant. "Are you sure? For how long? A week? Two?" He questioned, anger in his tone and hurt. She had hurt him when she left. His best friend left without a word and she pushed him out of the process. He didn't get to experience all the little moments of her pregnancy, moments he had been looking forward to. When it had seemed as if she was never returning, he did his best to not think of her, even though that was like trying to not breathe.
Then she began to ramble and he sighed, his eyes falling to the carpet, studying the assorted tones of brown. She was apologizing, she was scared. Could he blame her?
No, he supposed he couldn't. At her question, he shook his head. He'd never hate her. "No," he added quietly, knowing she'd want to hear that. "I couldn't hate you, Lovely."