Page 9 of Saltwater Cowboy

I rested my head on her shoulder as we walked into their house. The coastal home that was typically spotless had stuff everywhere. It looked like they were renovating the entire house.

“Sorry for the mess, we’re putting the finishing details on the living room, and Charlie hasn’t put anything away yet.”

“It’s just in case I need it again,” he muttered, rolling two of my suitcases through the door.

“Do you still need the ladder?” Blythe questioned, clearly annoyed by the mess.

He shrugged haphazardly, “I might.”

Blythe gave him an exaggerated eye roll. Being pregnant has made her even more sassy.

We moved from the cluttered entryway towards the stairs.

“Rose, we have the guest room made up for you. I’ll just put your suitcases in there.” Charlie was trying to tread carefully. I mean, I don’t blame him. Not only does he have to deal with a pregnant wife and a sassy as hell daughter, but now he has a best friend whose life has been upended.

I offered the smallest smile, “Thank you.”

He disappeared up the stairs.

Blythe’s eyes met mine; sympathy flooded them. “Why don’t you go take a bath? I picked up some bath bombs at the farmer’s market last weekend. They smell nice.”

Today’s weight hit my shoulders. I was exhausted. My body ached. Emotionally I was done for. My heart physically hurt—so much so, I Googled what a heart attack would feel like.

I just wanted to lie down and sleep. At least if I were asleep, I wouldn’t have to think.

When I didn’t respond, Blythe spoke again, “Do you want a hug?” She outstretched her arms.

I shook my head. “I think a hug would probably open the floodgates at the moment so a bath might be the best option.”

She nodded slowly before placing her hand on her stomach. “Are you hungry?”

My stomach grumbled but the thought of eating right now made me feel sick. “No.”

Blythe cocked an eyebrow, “You’re telling me that if I had extra pasta with some of my world-famous marinara sauce, you wouldn’t have it.” She feigned horror.

I shot her a pointed look. “You temptress.”

She popped a shoulder, “I just know you and if I don’t make sure you eat while you’re sad, you’ll lie in bed and rot.”

Blythe took a step towards me and held my shoulders in her hands. “Whatever happened has happened. What matters is how we move on from it. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, you know I will be all ears.”

She always knew what to say to make a shitty day better. “All I want to do is get wine drunk with you. Little dude in there needs to hurry up so I can have a glass of wine with his mom again.”

“Soon. But, in the meantime, Charlie got me some nonalcoholic wine so we could drink together.”

The corner of my mouth lifted, “That’s adorable.” I started up the stairs. “Be nice to him. He’s a good man.”

“Since when do you take his side?”

I stood at the top of the stairs. “I’m fair.”

“That’s one of the many things I love about you,” Blythe called up. “You know where everything is. There are extra towels under the sink. Take your time.”

At least someone still loves me.

The floorboards creaked under my feet as I made my way down the long hallway to the guest bedroom. I took in the room as the door creaked open—I was here alone. We were only going to stay with Charlie and Blythe for three nights before our new apartment was ready for us to move into. The thought of moving into that place alone and single crushed me. How am I supposed to move into a place that was supposed to represent our future when all I had left was our past?

I tossed my bag onto the bed and unzipped my suitcase, filled with my comfiest clothes. As I pulled out each item, memories surfaced like ghosts from the past. The sweater on top—I had worn on my second date with Thad, the night we went ice skating. The denim overalls—those were from his work picnic. Every piece of clothing was a relic of us, each one carrying a weight I wasn’t ready to bear.