I wonder if he’s willing to compromise with Eloise, if it was just me that wasn’t enough to inspire change.
I wonder if he loves her in a way he couldn’t love me.
“Hi, Gus,” I say, pleased that my voice comes out stronger than I feel, which is to say, like a little girl cowering in a storm shelter during a tornado while everything is spinning and being torn apart around her.
He palms the back of his neck, moving from foot to foot, and for the first time I notice thathe’snot completely put together. That he forgot to button the top button on his shirt, and he hasn’t stopped moving since coming into the shop, tapping his fingers on his thigh and his foot on the hardwoods.
He seems nervous, and for one second, I think he’s here to apologize, to tell me he made a mistake seven months ago.
Until he says, “I’m engaged.”
The tornado in my head stops, skids right to a halt, as if it, too, is as surprised as I am.
“You—what?” I manage to choke out. My hands grip the counter, tight enough to cramp under the pressure, my knuckles turning white.
Gus stands straighter, holding my gaze. “I proposed to Eloise last night.” His eyes seem to soften then, the corners of his lips tugging up as if by some invisible force calledloveandhappiness. I, on the other hand, feel like my insides are burning. “And she said yes.”
I blink, unsure of how to respond. Unsure of why in the actual hell he felt the need to come here and rub this in my face. I know I was wrong about us, but I didn’t think he wascruel.
“Congrats,” I finally choke out, and he seems to remember himself, dragging his mind out of whatever sappy place it had drifted off to.
He moves closer to the counter. I want to ask him not to, to tell him to just leave, but I can’t make myself. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you,” he says. “I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else and be blindsided.”
My jaw pops from the force of grinding my teeth together. I know he thinks what he’s doing is kind, but I’d rather suffer through having my bikini line tweezed than listen to my ex-boyfriend talk about the love of his life—his newfiancée, after telling me seven months ago that he’s just not the settling down kind.
What he really meant is that he’s not the settling down kindwith me.
“Thank you,” I say, trying not to gag on the words. I want to cause a scene. I want to yell and scream and ask him why I wasn’t enough. But I know that won’t get me anywhere. That I’ll still be the one who’s single and alone, and the scab that’s healed over my breakup wound will be ripped open again.
Relief coasts across his features. His shoulders slump, and the tightness around his mouth disappears into that soft smile again. I am dying inside.
“I’m so glad you’re not upset,” Gus says. “I know the breakup was…emotional.”
It’s that comment that makes me feel desperate, that makes me say, without thinking, “No, I’ve moved on.”
What stabs me in the chest is that he lookshappyfor me, like when you’re so in love that you just want everyone around you to feel the same way. There’s not an ounce of jealousy or a quickflash of hurt. He just looks so damn relieved and excited, and now I feel like my heart is crumbling to dust inside me.
The bell above the door jangles again, giving me a welcome distraction from the pain Gus unknowingly just caused. When I look from his excited face to the door, surprise filters through me.
Grey, of all people, stands there. He looks concerned, his brow pinched and his shoulders tense. Worry surges up inside me. Something is wrong.
Grey’s eyes snap from me to Gus, and I can see the moment his concern switches to cold anger. It radiates off him in startling waves.
“Is it him?” Gus asks, drawing my attention away from the force of nature that just stepped into my shop.
It takes a moment for his question to register, and when it does, I still don’t understand. “What?”
Gus looks between Grey and me, somehow unaware of the tense way Grey is watching him, jaw tight enough to crush a molar.
“Is it Grey?” he clarifies. “The person you’re with?”
The question leaves me even more confused. I have to rack my brain to understand it. And then it clicks. I said I’d moved on. I meant emotionally. That I’m no longer affected by him, which was obviously a lie. But he thought I meant I’d moved on with someone new. Or rather, someone old. Like my old friend Grey, who has been an honorary part of our family since my brother brought him home for dinner over fifteen years ago.
Grey is watching me, seeming to puzzle things out alongside me. Searing blue eyes hold my own, and I see the second he understands Gus’ question, even if he doesn’t know the full context. I wait for him to deny it, but he stays quiet, his gaze settled on me as if waiting to see what I will do.
I can’t believe Grey Sutton, the playboy of Fontana Ridge, isn’t jumping to correct Gus about his relationship status. To say there’s no way in hell he would be dating his best friend’s little sister. But despite everything, all the time we spend bickering and being snarky with each other, I know Grey always has my back.
He’s also the only one who knows exactly how wrecked I was after the breakup, the one who held my hair and told me everything was going to be okay while I drunkenly cried about the way all my dreams were scattering like shrapnel.
