“Business partner—and he’s not really a partner. I’m the one paying for everything. He’s my best friend slash roommate slash employee. Negative one million romantic feelings there.” She pauses and there’s a little lightness to her voice. “Speaking of which, how are things with you and Fox?”
I should've cut her off, but I get the impression no one cuts her off and lives very long. “We broke up.”
Silence. “Oh shit. Sorry.” There’s genuine sorrow for me.
My purse buzzes and I peek inside. It’s a geolocation Ryan picked. “It sucks, but we were never forever. Besides, I’m talking with a guy who’s great.”
“Damn, girl. Way to rebound.”
“Yeah. His name is Ryan. He’s super sweet, really funny, and like the cutest. He’s got this whole geeky sandy-hair, golden-retriever vibe.”
I expect her to squeal and be happy, but instead, in a dry, dull voice she says, “Ryan? His name is Ryan.”
I laugh. “You don’t get much more white-boy than that. But I checked—he doesn’t work for Alpha Dogggz.”
Alana doesn’t do that huff thing she does when she’s sort of kind of laughing, which sucks because that was a damn good joke and I thought we had moved into the jokey part of our sort of friendship. “Did I do something wrong?”
She sounds surprised. “You? No. You’re fine.” Alana’s quiet for a second. “I’ve got a bad feeling, but I’m sure it’s nothing. I can’t wait to reject your next design.” And poof—dial tone.
The next few hours are spent watching the clock and begrudgingly working at my desk. The art helps take my mind off the heartbreak Fox gave me and the hope Ryan gives me. Plus, I’ve been fixating over the mystery that is Alana King. Instead, I focus on vector design and website templates.
When five thirty rolls around, I’m out the door. Walking to the elevator, I check my phone to see if plans have changed. Ryan texted saying he’s ready. There’s a missed call from an unknown number. I didn’t block Fox from my phone yet, so it wasn’t him.
A familiar sense of panic tingles up my spine. Please be a butt dial. There are no voicemails, so that’s a relief.
I’m safe.
I did everything right to make sure he couldn’t find me.
My concerns vanish when I see Ryan in the lobby. Damn, his smile is so freaking cute. Should I hug him? Maybe a friendly high five? He makes the choice for me and kisses my cheek.This time, he’s picked a steak restaurant—not Ruth’s Chris, but a smaller mom-and-pop place. It’s elegant but casual.
“Are you going to tell me why you needed cheering up today?” he asks once the waiter returns with our wine.
See, everything was going great until he did that. What sort of guy remembers that I was upset and then calls me out on it? Oh, right, one who cares. I forgot that was an option. Ok, so I’m a little bitter and hurt, and Fox did care, in his own way. “My fuck buddy and I are no longer a thing.”
He flinches a little. Is it sympathy or the use of the term fuck buddy? He regroups and his eyebrows crease with concern. “Are you okay?”
I give a little shrug. “I guess we ran our course. We both got what we wanted.”
He glances over at his red wine and smirks. “Well, I’m going to play hard to get for a little while. I don’t want to be your fuck-buddy rebound.” He means it as a joke, but my stomach knots.
“I don’t want you to be that either.” As dinner continues, we start talking about more substantial topics, but we stay on the theme of heartbreak. “Was it a messy breakup between you and your wife? Do I have to worry about a crazy ex coming to hunt me down?” I laugh, but there’s a sadness in his eyes I’m not expecting.
“No. She passed away.”
Oh shit. I gasp. “I’m so sorry. We can change the subject—superhero movies: are they overrated or our modern-day mythology?”
He stares at his plate, at the gravy pooling around his mashed potatoes. “No, it’s important you know the truth.” He takes a deep breath and gets that far-off look in his eyes.
“Her name was Harper. We met when we were teenagers at an epilepsy camp. We called it Camp Shakes … that’s not the real name for legal reasons. We were both counselors and westarted dating the summer when we were sixteen. She lived one town over, so it was easy to keep up the relationship. Both of our parents were worried about us driving, but she had been seizure-free for almost a year. Junior and senior years of high school flew by, but college was a little more challenging. We broke up for like a week and a half, but both came crawling back to each other. She was funny, kind, and liked documentaries about birds and volcanoes. When she got a job working for the Olympians, we decided to get married—partly for the great insurance. But we’d been in it for the long haul and I couldn’t see myself with anyone else.”
He exhales and closes his eyes. My hand reaches across the table and rests over his. “Bear’s older brother was getting married, and I was a groomsman. I went down for the rehearsal dinner two nights earlier. Harper was going to come the day of the wedding. I didn’t like the idea of her being alone. It hadn’t happened in a long time, but she occasionally had seizures in her sleep. It made me feel safer if I slept next to her in case she needed help. This was going to be the first weekend we were apart in years. But she was stressed about work and didn’t want to take the extra time off. Besides, it was a guys’ trip.
“The morning of the wedding, I had a bad feeling. She wasn’t picking up and I couldn’t take it, so I bailed and went back home. Her parents were out of the country and most of our friends were already at the wedding.”
He stops talking and I rub my thumbs over his knuckles. He clears his throat and says, “I found her in our bed. She died alone in the middle of the night.”
His terrified trip home fills my imagination, constantly calling and getting no answer, how he must have flung the door open and sprinted up the stairs only to live his worst nightmare.
