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CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Saturday, July 17
There’sa coffee shop around the corner from my apartment that just happens to be directly across from theJourney’s End. I park myself on one of the high-top stools behind a narrow table in front of a large picture window that overlooks the bar. It’s become my new form of self-torture. Every morning, I wander in for my usual latte and a daily dose of Connor. He’s yet to notice me there, and I’m glad. Today, I check emails and apply for jobs online and watch Connor across the street in his bar.
And even though I know I shouldn’t, I find myself coming here every day just so I can get a glimpse of him. See him, without being seen by him. Because no matter how much it hurts, I still love him. I think it will always hurt. Because I will always love him. I watch him smile at customers. He rakes his hands through his hair. He knots his hair in a little sloppy man bun in the back. It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. Inner Analyst keeps telling me he won’t, and I know she’s right. I still find myself checking messages a million times a day … hoping. Willow said we need time apart — time to think. All I do is think of him.
I’m reminded of him practically every moment of my life. Every time I see the ink on my back, I think back to the weeks we shared together, falling in love and learning about ourselves and each other in ways so much more intimate than sex. And, heaven help me, I think of sex. I miss him holding me. I miss falling asleep watching decorator shows, resting against his chest.
I still watch the shows he likes, even though I’ve seen them all more than once now. Like I said, my own version of self-torture. He’s the man of my dreams, but not the man who wants to make my dreams come true. The irony is almost more than I can bear.
My daydreams of Connor are interrupted by a text from Willow.
Willow: How are you?
Me: Good
Willow: Liar. Has he called?
Me: No
Willow: Hon, you can’t work this out if you don’t talk to him. Call him.
Me: I can’t.
Willow: Yes, you can! CALL HIM!
Willow: Don’t make me put my pregnant ass on a plane, Ray!
I smile slightly at her empty threat.
Me: It hurts. I miss him.
Willow: I know. It will all work out, Ray. I promise.
Me: Thanks. Kiss the baby for me.
Willow: Done. Love you, Sis.
Me: Love you!
“You’ve got a good perch here, Lainey Bird,” I hear a low voice say behind me.
My lips curl into a smile when I turn to see Ox Carr standing behind me. Once a rock star hero, now a man I can consider a friend. I reach up and hug him warmly. I look around for Tori or Ginger, but he is alone today.
“How are you?” I ask. “How is … everyone?”
“I’m good. Going through some stuff, but it’s all good. Tori’s launching her new clothing line next week. And Ginger has a new boyfriend.” At this last statement, Ox rolls his eyes. “I hate him, of course. Mostly because I think they’re sleeping together, and I want to murder him for it. He has till Christmas to put a ring on it before I call some of the guys Connor knows from his ranger days to encourage the guy.”
“Dad life is hard,” I mutter. He nods.
Ox tips his chin in the direction of theJourney’s Endacross the street. “He looks all right, but he’s not. He’s fucking miserable without you, you know?”
“No. I don’t.” I glance down at my phone. “We haven’t talked since Martha’s Vineyard.”
“For the record, I think he’s making the biggest mistake of his life in letting you go. You saved him from himself. He needed to be there for someone else for a while. He needed to be needed and loved. I think, more than anything, he needed to see he could be the man he always thought he should have been with Shana. You did that for him.”
“He did it for me, too,” I add, praying my river of tears stays behind the dam of pretense and my “I’m doing fine” façade.
