“Well, the view from here? Five out of five stars. Absolutely recommend.” I bring my fingers to my lips in a chef’s kiss.
A girl can look, right? I’m not a nun. But I sure can’t touch. Nope, no, ma’am. I locked my heart up eight years ago after my divorce, and I’ve thrown that key so far I couldn’t find it if I tried.
I study the man again, a flicker of something crossing my memory, gone before I can latch on. Probably because I’mdistracted by something else. It appears there’s more than a couple of secrets being kept around town today. Every so often, while Penny watches Austin on stage, one hand goes to rest on her stomach. That is very…interesting.
Penny takes the stage next to the love of her life, and the whole of Singing River is treated to the performance of a lifetime. Just as they’re coming to the end of their set, Austin does exactly what he told me he’d planned. Lowering to one knee, he opens a small velvet box and nestled inside is Penny’s mother’s ring, autumnal sunlight reflecting off it. My waterline wells with tears as Penny’s hands fly to her mouth, her eyes misting over so full of love when Austin asks her to marry him. I’m pretty sure there’s not a dry eye in this town. My heart is full to bursting, watching this beautiful love story unfold onstage. I may have given up on my love life, but I’ve been rooting for their happily ever after since the day Penny told me he was renting her apartment.
Penny always says after my divorce I put up a permanently closed sign on any chance at love, and she’s not wrong. What she doesn’t know is I tried dating. With two small children, it was hard to find time, but I dated when I could, including two which ended spectacularly bad. The first guy went to the restroom right as the check came and never returned. I waited at least fifteen minutes before it hit me. He took me to one of the nicest, most expensive places one town over, and left me footing the bill.
The other date arrived reeking of alcohol, wearing a Limp Bizkit concert tee. While waggling his eyebrows, he unironically informed me his all-time favorite song was “Nookie,” and promptly told me—with slurred speech—that he liked my thick thighs and big tits. All before our drinks had even arrived. If that’s not bad enough, his dating profile said self-employed, but failed to say he crafted and sold jewelry made from the penis bone of a raccoon. I can’t make this shit up.
Sure, I’m lonely, with my kids getting bigger and needing me less and less, but I damn sure have my dignity. Therefore,settling will never be an option for me again. Plus, dates take entirely too much time and energy for them to be as unfulfilling as they’ve been.
So, yes, at this point, it’s fair to say I have erected a permanently closed sign. Being yet another victim of the fickle nature of love, how it can fill you up until you’re full to bursting, but its absence leaves its mark, a raw emptiness. No, I’ll never subject myself to that again. I like my men exactly where they belong. In my romance books. Fictional men don’t break your heart. Fictional men stick around.
But I play the supporting character with gusto. I cheer for the love happening around me while ignoring the voice in the back of my mind; the voice that whispers:What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone stay?And some nights, after one too many glasses of wine, I allow my mind to tiptoe to the past, to someone I’ve never quite forgotten.
After the cheers and applause die down, Penny and Austin perform one last song. Her voice breaks more than once as she sneaks glances at her ring, now sparkling on her finger, and Austin smiles at her as if she hung the moon. That man would probably lasso it from the sky if she so much as hinted at it.
Their song comes to an end, and they step off the stage hand-in-hand, shuffling their way through the crowd toward our table. They’re stopped no less than twenty times, but finally they reach us and our little found family gathers round.
We take turns admiring the ring and snap photos for social media with the newly engaged couple. Austin’s family approaches, and Cassie introduces us to their aunt, uncle, and mom.
The men all congratulate Austin, and I turn to Penny, throwing my arms around her neck. “I am so fucking happy for you, sis. Nobody deserves their happily ever after more than you.” A fresh wave of tears cascades down her face when we break apart.
Bless Penny’s heart, her normally beautiful bare face is doneup in makeup, mascara streaking down her cheeks from crying. Grabbing the nearest napkin, I work to get her cleaned up.
From my peripheral vision, that fine-ass man I spotted earlier turns, his profile now in view. There’s something so familiar about the sharp chiseled jaw and the thick framed glasses on his face. While sifting through my memories to place him, he turns, striding our way, and I freeze, my heart stuttering. It’s as though I’m having an out of body experience, watching from the side. The napkin I’m holding drops from my hand and the synapses in my brain stop firing for a split second.
What in the actual fuck is happening?
Because I know those hazel eyes behind those lenses. I could paint the shade in my sleep. I’ve found myself mixing the exact colors with my paints more than I care to admit, in fact. I alsoknowthat face. With the passage of time, his features have sharpened into the sturdy face of a man, but those are the same sun-poured eyes that stare back at me each day from the face of our daughter.
Those are Tyler’s eyes.
And holy smokes, has he had a glow up. The man coming my way is absolute perfection. Just like the night I met him, a five-o’clock shadow dusts his jaw and his thick dark hair still looks like he’s recently run his hands through it. Tousled but effortlessly sexy. For a split second, I imagine tangling my fingers in it like I did that night.Nope. Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen. But all the gangly boyishness I remember has shifted to something broad and muscular. A lot about him has changed, but it’s unmistakably Tyler.
There’s no way he’ll recognize me, though. What did Lisa say, he’s Austin’s manager? I’m sure he’s met thousands of women by now, seen plenty of faces much more memorable than mine. We shared one night together, after all. One perfect night.
But the instant he sees me, his steps falter, his jaw goes slack, and his eyes latch onto mine and pin me in place with a gaze so penetrating it could power the sun. There’s recognition in them,and something else…like we’re both remembering what no one else can see.
I watch as he catalogs every inch of me, and it feels like the world around us ceases to exist. After a beat, he takes slow measured steps my way, an invisible thread tethered between us, stretched tight and trembling. My friends have caught on that something important is happening, because all heads swivel back and forth between Tyler and me.
Through the ringing in my ear, I hear Austin ask Tyler how long he’s staying.
Tyler looks from Austin to me. He says only one word, his deep voice, still familiar after all this time. “Indefinitely.”
Out of nowhere, my heart squeezes in a viselike grip, my lungs cease their job at providing enough oxygen, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice saysso this is what a panic attack feels like.
The edge of my vision goes dark, like an invisible hand is slowly sliding a dimmer switch on the world around me. Gasping with reedy breaths, I’m vaguely aware of the nickname that slips from my lips right as I’m about to go down.
“Clark.”
There’s only ever been one girl who’s called me that. One night, years ago, she teased me with the nickname. She told me I was like Superman and called me Clark the rest of the night. Every time she said it, we’d pause and laugh, her eyes sparkling. It’s been years since my laughs came so freely—fourteen to be exact. And now here she is, a grown woman, looking at me with the same wide blueish-gray eyes, sunlight framing her in a halo of light.
I find myself drawn to her, helpless to her pull, no different than I was back then. My feet move of their own accord, closing the distance on years of longing.
I’ve played that night on a loop countless times, but it’s clear with her in front of me, all my memories were a poor man’s substitute. Without a doubt, it’s her…only so much more. She’s even more stunning, with lush curves that were missing fourteen years ago, and they only make her more irresistible. For a flash of a second, I wonder what it’d feel like to hold her against me again. Would our bodies fit perfectly together like they did back then?
