“No?”
“No, Gretchen. I’m not!” My growing frustration is unwarranted because I know I’m in the wrong, but I can’t help but feel a little defensive.
As if she’s read my mind, she responds in kind, accusations launched like arrows landing bullseye every time. “That woman gave you two and a half years of her life. I was at that dinner. I saw it. She loves you. She was probably expecting a proposal from you. Then you dump her out of nowhere and you can’t even answer her calls?”
That flicker of hope I’d been clinging to, that we could maybe restore our friendship and, perhaps with time, it might turn intomore, dies in an instant. She looks at me like I’m a stranger and it sucks the air from my lungs, suffocating that ember to ash.
Why would she give me another chance? A man who, for all intents and purposes, led someone on for over two years. The same man who had the only woman he’s ever truly wanted in his arms three years ago—the only woman whose lips have ever felt like home—and walked away.
I left Gretchen there. I never called. I never texted.
Regret strangles any defense I have left. When I don’t respond, she continues. “She needs closure, Connor. You owe her that.”
I absorb the cruel truth of her reprimand. “You’re right.”
This isn’t how I expected things to start off between us. I was so hung up on mending things with Gretchen, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. But I see it now. The big picture beyond the details. I can’t make things right with Gretchen without giving my relationship with Lauren the proper closure it—she—deserves.
“You’re awfully wise for all of your twenty-two years,” I say, hoping to break the tension.
“You meanalmosttwenty-two years. I’ve still got a few days left.” She preens with a dainty hand under her chin. The face scrunch and the constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose highlight the hint of mischief glimmering in her eyes.
Damn, she’s so pretty.
“My mistake.Almosttwenty-two. Still, though, you’re not supposed to be better at relationships than me. I’malmosttwenty-nine.” I mirror her playful expression.
She lets out a mirthless laugh that punches me straight in the gut. Her body turns away and it takes every bit of humor with it. She grabs the purse at her feet and says, “I actually don’t know much about relationships. But I know how much it hurts to not get closure.” Door open, she moves to get out of the car but stops with one leg still inside. She turns her profile on me, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I think it’s the most pain I’ve ever felt.”
Gretchen climbs out of the car and doesn’t look back, leaving me alone with nothing but karma and regret to keep me company.
Chapter Thirteen
DON’T BE WEIRD
Gretchen
I didn’t stickto the plan.
How was I supposed to avoidthe conversationwhen he shows up in black joggers, a faded University of Michigan t-shirt and a backwards ball cap? The attack felt personal, if I’m being honest.Thanks, universe.
Before he landed, I told myself not to bring it up yet. That it was best to wait until things between us felt more comfortable. A fresh start, of sorts. We could take a day—or five—and find that natural rhythm that we always seem to find and then…thenwe could talk about what the hell happened three years ago.
But he stepped off that jet bridge looking allhimand that damn tug was there again. Like your favorite throw blanket or that one coffee mug you reach for every morning even though you have three dozen others on the shelf.
Or your favorite nickname spoken by your favorite person. For all the familiar feelings of comfort and safety it brings, it also blurs the edges of your well-advised boundaries.
Fish. That’s all it took.
I managed to deflect the conversation to later, but not before I’d already said too much. Not before I’d confessed to blocking his number. Not before implying he should give Lauren the closure he never gave me.
Heart on sleeve plus hot guy in joggers divided byFishequals Gretchen spiral.
As we approach the door to our suite, I construct a mental checklist of all the things I need to do going forward.
1. Stop being weird.
That’s it. That’s the list.
Being aloof and allwoman-scornedwill get me nowhere. Tonight, I have to tell him why I’m really here. Connor, I remind myself, dropped everything to be here and that has to count for something. Friendship, at least. Right now I could use a friend.
