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Hell, the fact that I haven’t given up myvirtueshould count for something. Give me bonus points in someone’s book. Not that being a thirty-two-year-old virgin was a goal, but here I am…
Why won’t he talk to me?
My hands hurt from wiping them so long with the towel. I hang the cloth back on the bar, give myself one last glance in the mirror, take a deep breath, then turn for the door.
Back in the living room, the crowd has thinned. Guilt seeps into my veins and rattles me.
How long was I in the bathroom? I didn’t get to say goodbye.
After a deep breath, I sit in the same spot on the couch and try to pick up on what I missed. Which proves difficult because no one says a word. When I survey the room, all eyes are on me.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Shell, what’s wrong?” Cora asks, her tone treading lightly.
Much as I don’t want to dump my lackluster life onto my friends, I refuse to lie. Especially to Cora. She leaned on me countless times in the past. To deny her the truth would make me a hypocrite and a horrible best friend.
If only the truth didn’t throb painfully in my chest.
Eyes on my lap, I tuck my hands and fingers in the sweater sleeves. Hide them from view, so no one sees me pick at my cuticles. The room goes quiet, too quiet, but the stares I feel burning my skin scream deafening tones. And I just want the silent questions and eye-piercing volume to stop.
“Remember the guy at the shop last year?” I don’t need to elaborate. Cora knows who I mean. It’s not often I talk shop… or guys.
“The artistwho did the mural?” Cora questions.
“Yeah.”
“Sort of. I remember Mom talking about him. Only saw him briefly during a visit. I remember him being there, but nothim.” She rises from her chair and sets Clara—who fell asleep while I was in the bathroom—in her carrier. Then she parks next to me on the couch. “Is he the reason you’re down?”
This is so weird, awkward. Maybe because guys don’t stick around past date number two. Maybe because I have never had a long-term romantic relationship. Not that Devlyn and I are—were—long term or romantic anything. But he is the first person I connected with on a profound level.
Then I ruined everything with a stupid kiss.
What a great kiss it was, though.
“Yes and no,” I say with a shrug. “He was back at the shop, touching up the outside mural and painting a new one inside.” I drag in a deep breath and exhale loudly. “He was there daily for weeks and we talked. A lot. When he finished, we started hanging out. About a month and a half. Nothing serious. Guy friend stuff.”
I pause and close my eyes. Fill my lungs with fresh air and swallow past the lump forming in my throat. I peel my eyes back open, but keep them on my lap and trudge forward.
“A couple weeks ago, I kissed him. He was into it. Really into it.” I lift my gaze to Cora and see the wince already building on her face. All it does is amplify the pain in my chest. A pain that just won’t quit. I press the heel of my palm to my breastbone and get no relief. “Then, he freaked. Couldn’t leave fast enough. And I haven’t heard from him since.”
The spear pushes straight through my heart and lets every drop of life puddle at my feet. When did I become this woman? An emotional wreckage pile. The woman who lets the idea of a guy rule her life.
Cora scoots closer as Autumn presses her weight to the opposite side. A hand swipes my cheek. Wipes away the tears I hadn’t realized were leaking from my eyes. Which makes me cry harder. Then, I am swathed tighter than a newborn. Surrounded by arms and warmth. Friendship and love. Family.
And I let it all go. Cry as if my ducts hadn’t been used in years. Weep as if I lost the love of a lifetime. And I don’t stop until my eyes are puffy and cheeks are hot.
“What did I miss?”
Cora, Autumn, Peyton, and Penny lean back. A whoosh of cool air smacks my face as Elizabeth steps closer. When she wasn’t in the room when I returned, I assumed she left. Guess she was in the kitchen or off doing something with Clementine.
“Nothing, Mom,” Cora says. “Shelly’s just been a little down. So, we were giving her some love.”
Elizabeth regards her daughter, then me. She may see me more times a week than Cora, but I haven’t mentioned anything to her. Just kept my head low and hands busy at work. But I see the questions in her eyes now. See her motherly armor slip into place.
“Devlyn?”
All she asks is his name. She doesn’t need to elaborate. The woman isn’t oblivious. Although she appeared to not notice my interaction with Devlyn at the store, she didn’t miss a thing. Maybe it is her motherly intuition. Or perhaps, it is the wisdom that only comes with time and life experience. Either way, she knows. And it eases the pain a little.
