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“Hey, Carly. Can I get two Blue Moons?” he asked, knowing it was Matt’s favorite.
She stared at him for a second, not saying anything, as though she were waiting. Then she sighed, pulled two bottles from the fridge and popped the tops off, sliding them over to him. She moved away, shaking her head.
A dull ache radiated through his chest. He’d never realized it was possible to miss someone even when they were standing right in front of you, but he missed Carly all the time.
He picked up the beers and sat down in the booth Matt had chosen, passing one to him.
Matt took a sip and then tipped his bottle toward the bar. “What’s that all about?”
“What?”
“Don’t give me that. You and Carly. You were nuts about each other less than two weeks ago and now it’s frostier than the North Pole in here.” Matt took another sip of his beer. “What did you do?”
Dean took a sip of his own beer. “What makes you think I’m the one who did something?”
Matt said nothing, merely arched an eyebrow.
Dean sighed, giving in. “Fine. Yeah. It was me. I fucked everything up.”
“How? She was clearly crazy about you.”
Dean opened his mouth, ready to tell Matt to mind his own business, but instead, he started unburdening himself, telling Matt the whole story from the beginning, not leaving anything out. It was cathartic, pouring everything out, and he didn’t even pause when their food came, letting it sit in front of him.
Matt listened with a wry smile, not saying anything until Dean had finished. Then he pursed his lips and nodded. “You know, if everyone would just listen to me the first time around, their lives would be so much easier.” He leveled his clear blue gaze at Dean. “Do you remember what I told you? The night of the rehearsal dinner?”
Dean nodded. Truth be told, he’d replayed Matt’s words more than once.
Life is short, and it’s better to live it and risk losing something, to risk the pain that comes with it, than to not live at all.
“Yes or no, you want to be with her?” asked Matt, pointing at him with a French fry.
“Yes.” Carly was right. What they’d had had been real. Or at least it had been, until he’d let fear win. He’d never given them a chance, and now he’d lost her. She was barely speaking to him, barely looking at him.
“Then, dude, you gotta stop holding yourself hostage to your past. You spent so much time worrying that you were going to hurt her that it became this self-fulfilling prophecy. If you want to be with her, go fucking be with her.”
Dean nodded and chewed his burger slowly. He suddenly had a new appreciation for the way she’d put herself out there when she’d told him about her feelings. She’d done a hard, brave thing, and he’d practically run out of the room with his tail between his legs.
He didn’t want to be scared anymore. He didn’t want to live his life in fear.
He wanted to be with her, and that want was bigger than the fear. He’d been vulnerable with her, and . . . it had felt good. Right. And like an asshole, he’d rejected her when she’d wanted to pursue what had been simmering between them for a long time. The trip, with the sex, had simply taken things to a new level.
“So what are you going to do?” asked Matt, wiping at his mouth. “What have you tried so far?”
“Uh . . . pretty much dick fucking all.”
“Okay, well, A: you’re an idiot; and B: you need to come up with a game plan before it’s too late.”
Dean nodded again, trying to figure out how to show Carly that he wanted another chance. That he knew he’d fucked up, and that he was sorry, and have her believe him. He and Matt spent the rest of their meal talking about other stuff—sports, the weather, Matt’s upcoming wedding—but Dean was only half checked in to the conversation.
They finished their meals, and after Matt left, Dean headed back to his office, trying to figure out what to do.
At the soft rap on his door, he jerked his head up. Carly stood in the doorway. Her shift had just ended, and she had her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” she said, stepping into his office.
He felt as though he’d been hit with a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain. Hope.
“Sure. You want to sit down?”
