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Two weeks ago my life was perfect.
Okay, it wasn't perfect, but I had some good things going for me. Carson being one of them. And now? Well now I don't even know what I want anymore.
Maybe that's the root of my real problem. Since coming to Maine, there was never any question for me. I saw something I wanted; I went for it. In all aspects of my life. Having Westin thrust back into my life so unexpectedly has really screwed with my head. But he’s not reallyinmy life, is he?
As I round the corner, my steps falter when I see a figure sitting on the front step of the bakery. Confused as to who it could possibly be, I check the sign hanging from the awning to see if maybe I’m mistaking my entrance with that of another shop. On this street, they all kind of blend together.
But the closer I get, the more it becomes clear that the mystery person is most definitely sitting onmystep. My heart rate kicks up a notch.
“Can I help you?” I ask, stopping a few feet from the front door of the bakery, honestly too scared to go any closer without first identifying who this is.
The street lights are too dim and I’m too far away to make out any facial features, but as the person begins to stand, it becomes apparent that it's a man. His height and broad shoulders make that much clear.
“Rough night?” His deep voice hits my ears and for a moment, I think I'm hearing things. Certainly, it's not...
It can't be...
“Sorry?” I question, squinting through the darkness, trying to make out his face. Only then does it dawn on me that I’m standing directly below a street lamp, so while he is shrouded in darkness, to him I’m completely visible.
“Rough night?” he asks again, this time his voice unmistakable as he steps away from the shadow cast by the building and into the dim lighting of the street.
The moment my eyes focus on his face, I literally gasp.
“Westin?” My shock must register through more than my voice because he lets out an amused laugh and takes another step toward me, leaving us separated by just a couple of feet.
“What... What are you doing here?” My words come out rushed and full of disbelief.
I'm fairly certain that I’m dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation.
“You needed time.” A slow smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “You about done with that?”
“What?” I don't know if I’m asking a question or too beside myself to form any other words.
“Time. Have I given you enough?” His lips quirk in humor.
“This is crazy,” I stutter out, taking a step backward. “You can't... You can't just show up here and... Why are you even here?”
“I thought that much was clear, but if you need me to spell it out. Y-O-U. I'm here for you.” He takes another step toward me.
This time, I can't seem to make my feet move and I stay rooted to the ground beneath me. My mind is racing with questions, with confusion. Honestly, everything feels like too much, yet not enough at the same time.
For years I’ve dreamt of this. Of Westin showing up at my front door. It's all I’ve ever wanted. And now that he is, I can’t process it. None of this makes any sense. Why now? Why after all these years?
“I don't...” I break off, shaking my head, gesturing for him to not come any closer. “Westin... I... We... You can't honestly think that you can show up here and all is forgiven.”
“No. I didn't expect you to make it easy on me.”
“You need to go,” I grind out, his statement rubbing me the wrong way.
This man has no idea what he’s put me through. And now here he is, ready to force his way back into my life and for what? So he can destroy it the same way he did ten years ago? Thanks, but no thanks.
I wish he could see that what happened at the wedding was nothing more than just a drunk hookup.
But was it really?
“Scar...” He reaches for me, but I take another step backward, my feet finally able to move again.
“Don't.” I say, side stepping past him. He waits until I reach the bakery door before his hand closes around my forearm, causing me to whip around.
