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“What do you mean?” I frown.
“He’s not going to stop pursuing you,” Jen says, as if it’s obvious. “Are you going to keep pushing him away?”
“I…” My voice trails off. I’m a little tipsy, and I’m having a hard time making sense of my thoughts. For some reason, the word “yes” just doesn’t want to come out of my mouth.
A phone rings, and Trina lets out a soft curse. She glances at the screen and gives us an apologetic glance. “It’s Mac. We were supposed to watch the finale of our show tonight, and I told him I’d only be gone an hour.”
Simone checks the time on her own phone as her eyes bug. “I’d better get going too.”
There’s a mass exodus, complete with a clean-up of all the rooms we’ve used, loading of the dishwasher, and hugs and kisses all around. Somehow, the ladies wrangle a promise from me to meet them at their café, Four Cups, in the morning.
Jen is the designated driver for Candice, Trina, and Simone, while Grant comes to pick up a very giggly Fiona.
It’s not until they’re all gone, when I’m filling up my recycling bin with empty bottles of wine and sparkling water (Fiona insisted we start hydrating before breaking apart), that I lean against my kitchen counter and let out a breath.
For the first time all evening, I allow myself to think of Sebastian, to consider Jen’s question.What will I do next?
Every single woman who came to my home tonight has her own story to tell. They’ve all started over, pushed through until their lives improved. They all accepted love into their lives after heartbreak and divorce and trauma.
I fought to build my business, damn it, and now after finally leaving my unhappy marriage, I’m ready to crawl in a hole and die?
I’m better than that.
I have a lot of life left to live, and I’m not ready to give up.
Sebastian kissed me. So what? Does that give me the right to be a total jerk to him? Toassaulthim?
I’m better thanthat, too.
Snuggling into my big king bed under a downy comforter and silky sheets, I slip on my eye mask and feel my resolve strengthen. I’m not letting Derrick win the divorce by giving up on my life. I’m not letting Sebastian win…whatever it is we have…by feeling discombobulated every time I’m near him.
Tomorrow is a new day, and I can be a new woman. I have money and health and friends, and I’m in a beautiful new town. I’m not letting anyone—especially not a twangy-tongued ghost from my past—take that away from me.
From the soles of my feet to the very top of my scalp, Iburn. Fire courses through me; life floods my veins. I’m not washed up, old, over the hill. I’mme.
And I’m not done living. Not by a long shot.
5
GEORGIA
I wakeup feeling guilty for slapping Sebastian. The determination that coursed through my body when I fell asleep has morphed into something new—something that feels a lot like contrition and the desire to own up to my mistakes.
After all, Sebastian was right when he said I kissed him back. I did, and I enjoyed it. The new me isn’t scared of a kiss. The woman who has half her life left to live is strong enough to admit that she is not a robot, and she would still like to have sex with a man.
“A man” doesn’t necessarily mean Sebastian Finch. In fact, it most definitely doesnotmean Sebastian Finch. I enjoyed kissing him, but I will not be doing it again, and I’m also sorry I slapped him.
See? I’m a complex, multifaceted woman. All these things can be true at once.
Was it temporary insanity? Maybe. It also could have been a decade of repressed sexual urges or a desire to feel something real. It had nothing to do with Sebastian being Sebastian. Probably.
As I shower and get ready for the day, the conversation from last night swirls in my mind. The ladies of Heart’s Cove challenged me when they asked what I’d do with my time, if I’d start a business, if I’d keep pushing Sebastian away.
My divorce was a vicious, drawn-out battle that lasted way longer than it should have. We finally signed the papers eighteen months ago, and I’ve been on autopilot since then. What caused my numbness was not only the death of my marriage but also the death of the business I’d spent over twenty years building. I’ve been grieving. Thinking of the future didn’t even seem like a possibility when I was so mired in the past.
It’s a special kind of irony that it’s a man from my past who has shocked me out of that stupor.
I make my way to Four Cups and inhale the scent of fresh-roasted coffee beans and sizzling bacon. Jen, Fallon, and a young chef are busy in the kitchen, visible through a rectangular opening in the back wall. A tattooed youth wearing a pink T-shirt proclaiming him a “Heart’s Cove Hottie” is at the enormous espresso machine, wreathed in hissing steam, and Fiona is behind the counter teaching a teenage girl how to use the register. Candice and Simone are crouched over a laptop in the back corner.
