A knock on the door interrupted her pleading. It opened a crack, and three heads peeked through. “Gemma? You okay?”
Jesse didn’t turn as he whispered, “Just go.”
So she did, though it took her leaden feet a thousand years to trudge to the door. Outside the green oasis, icy wind slapped her face. Too late to turn back now. She’d hurt him. He didn’t want her anymore.
Her expression grave, Sierra wound her long arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “Damn, did we screw things up with your new guy?”
Margot hugged her from behind. “Listen, we can go to Portland another time. Go back to him.”
Olivia joined the huddle, tucking her chin onto Gemma’s shoulder. “If he cares for you, he won’t be jealous of your friends. That’s a red flag, babe.”
They didn’t understand. Then again, neither did she. How could he let one disappointment erase everything they’d shared?
Caleb’s gentle goodbye was a mere paper cut compared to this searing pain, but if anyone could get her through it, these three could.
She straightened her spine. “Come on, let’s go have fun.”
Her brain spun worse and worse imaginings all the way to Portland, but she forced a smile until her jaw ached almost as much as her gut.
Though the club’s throbbing beats didn’t drown out her pounding regret, at least it helped numb the ache. And if she had to flee the dance floor to catch her breath and wipe her tears, so what? Chalk it up to the crowd, the noise, the stuffy air.
It couldn’t possibly be a broken heart. Hell, her heart hadn’t even healed from its last stomping.
Better to just take life day by day and quit looking for soulmates. Because really, there was no such thing.
Growling to keep the tears at bay, Jesse ripped the paper hearts down and crumpled those sadistic reminders of what he’d lost. How could he have been so wrong about Gemma? She told him what she needed—excitement, passion, new experiences—and he went to a helluva lot of trouble to give it to her. But she blew him off. Their five weeks together had been a waste, a stupid distraction from what really mattered—building his business and getting on with his life.
And it’s not like she didn’t warn him. He knew himself well enough. To be happy, he needed to be rooted, grounded. He needed a home and loved ones he could count on. Gemma would never be satisfied with someone as dull and routine bound as him. As much as it hurt, and right now it hurt like a sonofabitch, he’d better let her go.
Grumbling curses, he packed away all the traces of his stupid romantic gesture. And his dreams of a future with Gemma.
Chapter Twelve
ThatValentine’sDaywasthe most painful Gemma had ever experienced, with customer after customer skipping into the shop, hearts in their eyes, to buy love tokens for their special someone. Her pounding hangover only made things worse—why had she thought tequila would help her forget Jesse? Tequila never helped anything. And her glum silence cast a pall over breakfast and the ride home. By the time her friends dropped her off at the shop, she doubted they’d ever waste their time on her again. They felt guilty for ruining her date with Jesse. She felt guilty for choosing them over him, not that he’d left her much choice. From the moment he spotted her friends, who’d only wanted to share their love on her birthday, he’d shut down. Locked up tighter than a submarine hatch.
Happy fuckin’ birthday, Gemma. Happy Valentine’s Day too.The irony nauseated her.
That’s what she got for hooking up with a hidebound Taurus, a jealous homebody who was too stubborn to step outside his comfort zone. She knew damn well that Taurus plus Aquarius equaled the worst match ever.
Was she being fair to categorize Jesse so quickly? Nagging guilt nibbled her conscience with sharp, ratty teeth. And fair or not, she resented him for making her feel guilty.
See? We’ve only been together a short time, and already I’m making myself unhappy over him. Tomorrow, I’ll officially break things off. Or maybe the next day.Her integrity demanded she do it in person. She might be selfish and afraid of confinement, but she still cared about him, and probably always would. Saying goodbye to Jesse Del Toro would be agonizing.
Two days later, Zora had had enough. She flipped the shop sign to “Back in 30 minutes” and pointed to her divination station. “Behind the screen. Now.”
“Here we go,” Gemma muttered, bracing herself for what Zora called ‘a good talking to.’ No one saw through excuses and rationalizations like her psychic aunt.
Taking her sweet time, which only prolonged Gemma’s torture, Zora poured them each a cup of tea, apple and cinnamon this time, with hints of orange peel and clove. She set one in front of Gemma, then sat and tented her fingers, leveling a razor-sharp stare.
Gemma sipped. “Good tea, Auntie.”
“It’s Jesse’s recipe.” Cool as the proverbial cucumber, she sipped her tea. “Haven’t seen him around lately. Except when I spotted him in the supermarket yesterday. The look on his face about broke my heart. Then he scooted away in a hurry.” She laid her cool hand over Gemma’s trembling one. “And you’ve been as glum as an oyster. What happened?”
Gemma searched her tea leaves for an answer.
But Zora wasn’t one to settle for silence. “You two seemed so happy together. Your combined smiles could have lit a room.”
As if on cue, the shop’s lights flickered.
