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Chapter Forty-Two
A few days went by. The media swarmed Ocean City. Stories were all over every news channel, every magazine. Everyone was alight with talk of Leo Turner. I saw a clip of his house with security guards lining the front of it and even a few police cars. Just like that, the barrier was up. He was back to his life, and I was left behind in mine. I did the only thing I could do—I turned off my heart, solidified the iciness in my veins that Brad had left behind, and I tried to forget about him.
Leo texted several times. I ignored him. Leo had flowers sent. I refused to go to the door to see him. I told myself it was easier.
“I think it’s wise to bury your nose in your business,” my mother said—burying her nose in my business being her ultimate pastime. I didn’t argue, but I also didn’t agree. Instead, I just got to work.
A part of me knew I was making a potentially huge mistake. I could feel the sadness creeping through my veins. If I kept icing Leo out, it would eventually be too late. Was I willing to lose him?
I didn’t see how I had a choice, though. I decided the best thing to do was to rip Leo off like a band-aid, get back to work, and help him make leaving easier. He had a dream, too. I didn’t want to hold him back from it any longer. Dreams and love didn’t mix. That’s what I’d learned from Brad, wasn’t it? And even if Leo wasn’t Brad, the circumstances were still similar in some ways.
My heart was broken, truly. But at least I’d have my business this time. At least I’d have that. I spent a few days focusing on a new business plan and prepared to meet with another bank. I worked up more concepts, more break-even analysis, and more distributors. I stayed holed up in my room for hours on end, determined that my life wouldn’t completely fall apart.
On the third day, I went to the doctor for my last appointment—and got to abandon my boot. Elated, there was only one person I wanted to call. I didn’t, though. What would be the point? It wasn’t like we could go out anywhere with the swarms of media following him, and even if we had a quiet night in with more confessions of love—goodbye was still coming anyway. Instead, I walked myself down to Dorothy’s apartment for a mimosa. Fred was over, though, so I didn’t stay long, despite Dorothy’s insistence I wasn’t interrupting.
The summer sun was still technically going strong, but for me, it had faded again. I felt like it was January once more, the winter wind whipping around my frozen heart in the middle of the baking sand. I imagined Leo traveling back to London, forgetting about the girl he wrote a song for. I thought about what it would be like to see him on the tabloid pages with a new girl. I told myself it was for the best even when my heart crumpled in on itself.
As fast as our romance had heated up, it was over even faster—which made me question everything that had happened. Was any of it real? Had I invented the whole thing?
I told myself I had survived three days without him; I would be fine.
But then, on the fourth day of my life-without-Leo promise to myself, I got the text that made me reconsider. And I gave in.
Chapter Forty-Three
