Page 11 of Before I Lost You

“Bullshit,” he says with an eye roll. “He’ll come back around, you’ll see.”

“I hope so…”

I look toward the table where they’re sitting, unable to stop, just to find them getting up. My eyes snag on Kenneth the entire time he walks to the door, and just as he’s about to exit, he looks over his shoulder, and we make eye contact. It’s intense, but he doesn’t even smile. He turns around and exits, like I mean absolutely nothing to him. Like I’m not the man of his dreams. I’m probably not. Maybe I’m just destined for unrequited love.

Fuck.

Fate is such a little bitch for this one.

Chapter 5

SMALL MIRACLES

The past few days have felt weird.

I’ve been keeping to myself, and Emerson has called me out for it multiple times, but I just can’t bring myself to hang out with him. I’ve been tired and second-guessing myself—second-guessing my dreams and my life, and all of my choices. Even through this crisis, the dreams haven’t stopped, and hope is still very much alive, no matter how hard I’ve tried to kill it. I guess I’m delusional enough to want him to contact me even after he rejected me. Maybe I do believe in fate after all.

That may be my biggest mistake yet.

My routine after work for the past few days has been keeping myself busy enough not to have the chance to think much about my life or the loneliness I feel lately. It’s mostly consisted of working out until I drop, taking a shower, and then going to sleep. I’ve also taken myself on a few solo dates to dinner as well to prove to myself that I don’t need a man to make me happy, but it usually just ends with me being sad that I have no one, so I wouldn’t say I’ve been successful. The past two evenings, though, I’ve been coming to the Harborwalk to stroll around andwatch the sunset, which has only made me think ofhim, and I don’t even know why. It’s almost like I subconsciously know he likes sunsets, and I can’t even fathom how I would know that if this is my first time meeting him. I know nothing about him, but this feels like a fact. Like something undeniable. I know it in my bones, and it scares me to believe it. Because what if it’s all in my head?

Am I crazy?

Delusional?

Do I need a doctor?

Fuck.

Hot from walking, I sit on a bench that looks out at the water and consider how to move on. I think it’s time to accept that he’s not going to call, and that all the things I started to believe about fate are utter bullshit. That kind of hurts, because I was so sure he’d see me, somehow. That I’m the one for him, that I have to be. Because how do you dream of someone for months if you’re not meant to be with them? How does a person feel familiar and safe if they’ve never been in your life? And how do you move on from them not giving you a chance? How do you get over the person you’re sure is your soulmate? How the hell do they not feel it too?

I rub my fingers over my eyes, trying to get rid of the stinging that surely means more tears are coming. I refuse to cry out here in public to look pathetic for everyone to see. No, I’ve already felt pathetic enough the past five days. I’d like for it to stop now, thank you very much. And maybe I do need to contact Emerson and hang out. Anything to stop wallowing in self-despair. I need a distraction. I need to forget he ever existed—

My eyes catch on a head of blond curls I’d recognize anywhere, and my breath catches in my throat. There, at the edge of the Harborwalk, is Kenneth. His camera is in his hands, and he is snapping pictures of the sunset and the water. He looks relaxed,wearing baby-blue linen shorts and a cream linen button-down shirt. Of course, he looks beautiful enough to break my heart all over again, and I haven’t even seen his face. Which I know will destroy me, so I need to get the hell out of here.

My legs feel like lead, though, and my heart is beating faster than I’m used to. Way too fast. It almost feels like I’m having a heart attack with how tight my chest feels. Am I dying? Is this how it ends? Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a panic attack. I can’t get up. I can’t leave. I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

I gasp for air, feeling like I’m drowning, clutching at my throat. Then I remember something I saw Emerson do for himself during a panic attack, and place my hand over my chest. I look away from Kenneth and start counting five things I can see, hear, and by the time I get to smell, I can feel my chest rise and fall with deep breaths under my hand.

I look up again and stare at him, just one more time before I leave. I can’t help myself, apparently. He lowers his camera and stiffens, and I can tell he can sense someone is watching him by the way he starts looking around. I stiffen, ready to bolt, when he turns around and we make eye contact. And then we stare at each other. I’m not sure how long. Long enough for it to feel like my panic attack might come back, though.

Today must be my personal day in hell.

Am I even living in reality, or am I hallucinating? Am I even in Boston anymore? Is this the underworld? What kind of sick fucking joke is this that he’s walking toward me right now? Why would he? Was rejecting me once not enough?

Kenneth stops walking when our shoes touch, and then his head tilts to the side, and he watches me. Lips pursed, eyes assessing. It makes my hands shake, and nerves hit me like I’m being run over by a car. Is he going to talk? Why did he come here if he’s not going to say anything? Why is he—

“I feel like this can’t be a coincidence that we’re here at the same time.” His eyebrow raises. “Are you following me?”

I frown. “How would I even know where you’d be? I know nothing about you.” Somehow, that feels like a lie, though I have no idea why that is.

“Fair.” Kenneth smiles. “How are you?”

How are you?

Really? Fucking small talk?