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I picture her driving back to Napa and running into Trevor in St. Helena. I fucking hate that guy, but I hate even more that he has a better chance of seeing her this week than I do. I’m losing control of the situation and don’t know how to reel it in.
Instead of telling her any of this, I push the thoughts aside and try to refocus on the launch.
We walk downstairs slowly, stopping every minute or so to kiss under the low-voltage lights. I start to steer her toward the parking garage, but she stops me. “No, I found a spot on the street.”
So we go there instead, and I watch her drive down the quiet road toward the freeway. A part of me regrets letting her leave, but I have work to do. It’s what I know best.
A painful ache throbs in my chest when she’s gone, but I also feel relieved because sticking to science is easier than trying to find balance in my life. I’ve never been good at it, and I’m not good at it now.
I’m walking back to my office when two reporters ambush me outside the AstroTech building. One more reason I don’t ever leave through the front door. For all I know, these people camp out here on the daily.
“Colin! Are you off the market?”
“Are you dating PJ Corbett?”
The voices drown out my thoughts, which had just returned to thinking about the upcoming launch. Now I’m back to gossip fodder, and I hate it.
“Is it serious?”
“Are you more focused on your love life than on your launch?”
“Would you live on Mars with PJ?”
Such. Stupid. Questions.
I’m angry with myself for letting her leave instead of pushing work aside and fighting to have her here all weekend long. I see the trajectory of us flaming out just like my marriage did because I’ve learned nothing.
When faced with love, I let my work rule the day. Again. I don’t deserve her.
The same flame of frustration rears up as when I blurted my thoughts over a month ago, but apparently, I’ve learned nothing. “It’s nothing. She’s nothing to me. End of story.”
It’s me who’s nothing, incapable of pulling my gaze from the starry sky long enough to hold onto the best thing I’ve found. She was right in front of me, and I let her walk away.
Turning away from them before they can snap more photos, I pull open the door of my building and hurry inside to the safety of my lab. But the words have left my mouth, and I already regret them.
Especially because I know that in the world of social media, they’ll live forever.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
PJ
My heart is on the floor.
It was bad enough that Colin canceled two of our last three attempts to see each other over the past three weeks. Now I understand why.
Because I’m “nothing” to him.
My social media feed burned this morning with that clip of Colin glibly telling some reporter that we are nothing. Squares with what most people in my life seem to think about me. Frivolous, sassy, social media maven who doesn’t know how the real world works. I just thought he saw me differently.
“I hate seeing you beat yourself up over this,” Dash says as we drive to Duck Feather Vineyard. He’s trying to be supportive, but it feels like older brother pity, and I hate it. I hate being the younger sister who’s a mess. Again.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I will be. If freakin’ Colin would stop texting and calling me.”
