“Stop running and face it. Deal with it, with open eyes and a willing heart.”
“I’ll try.” I wipe away what feels like an endless stream of tears and pick up my tea. I’m glad I stayed sober and clear headed.
I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
23
Cat
It wasn’t hard to find out where she was staying. It’s not like there’s that many places to choose from. And considering I knew what car she was driving, she was easy to spot.
The next morning, I pull into the motel parking lot and contemplate my next move. The place is nearly empty, so I assume her car is approximately in front of her room. I take a gamble, climb out, and start knocking on doors.
The first room is empty.
In the second, a disgruntled, disheveled man is clearly sleeping off last night.
Third time is the charm.
She opens the door. She doesn’t look surprised. In fact, she looks downright pleased to see me. I get my first up-close look at her, and as much as I hate to admit it, she’s even more beautiful. Her blond hair looks like sunlight, and her eyes are big and wide, a crystal-clear blue that suits her bone structure perfectly.
Dressed in a white sleeveless top and skinny jeans, she’s rocking that California, bohemian-chic style, right down to her bare feet and pale pink toes. It’s a look I could never pull off in a million years—a thought particularly distressing considering my eyes are puffy, my face drawn, and I feel like ten miles of bad road.
These are all things I can’t be concerned about right now. I have other things that need to be dealt with, and I’m not about to let the disparity of our appearances distract me.
Last night, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. At around three AM, after I churned over and analyzed my relationship with Caden, ruminated over my life, and contemplated my past, I realized Uncle Beau was right. I keep waiting for some mysterious force to sweep over me and magically make me feel like I’m in control and belong in my own life.
And that’s never going to happen.
If I want control, I need to take it.
If I want to belong, I need to take ownership of my life and choices.
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m done getting swept up in other people’s chaos and desires. Done going along without thinking because I don’t know what else to do.
If I don’t want to get caught up in whatever mess this woman and Caden are involved in, I’ve got to take control of the narrative.
Unlike Caden, I’m not going to run. I’m going to stay and fight for what I want. I don’t think that includes Caden, because if I ever get involved with another man, he’s going to be one that sticks. But I’m not hiding from this situation, since I have nothing to be ashamed of.
I take a deep breath and plunge headfirst into my mess of a life.
I meet her gaze. “Is this a bad time?”
Meredith leans against the doorframe. “Are you here to stake your claim?”
I shake my head. “I thought we should talk.”
A perfectly shaped brow rises. “I suppose you want to compare my story to Caden’s?”
“I haven’t talked to him.” I straighten my shoulders. “I wanted to hear your story without him clouding my judgment.”
Her brow furrows, like she’s confused. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.” I step into the room. It’s dark and messy and doesn’t fit the woman standing in front of me. I take a seat on the edge of the chair and clear my throat. “Believe it or not, I’m not the enemy. If I’d known Caden was involved with someone, I’d have stayed away from him.”
She plops down on the edge of the bed. “Caden doesn’t like to talk about himself.”
So she does know him. It leaves a pit in my stomach, but I continue on because I don’t know what else to do. “Would you fill me in on your relationship?”
