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She scoffs. “You are. Like last week, when we went to the city. She was on one of the billboards—some makeup ad, I think—and I said about how weird her head looked because the photo was all stretched and distorted to fit the board, remember? And you said you'd never known a more beautiful woman.”
“No, I didn't.”
“You did.” She nods for emphasis. “It was under your breath, so you didn’t think I could hear you or whatever, but I could, and I did.”
Fuck, I'm an asshole.
I don't even remember saying that, but it's not exactly outside the realm of possibility.
“I'm sorry, but I don't—“
“Shit like that happens all the time, but I let it go,” she cuts me off. “'Cause I get it, ya know? First loves are hard. But it's been six years, Cole. And at some point, you're gonna have to get over it.”
“Babe, I'm not in love with her.”
“Whatever.” She hits me with another roll of her eyes. “Just remember that she left this town 'cause it wasn't good enough for her. There's no way she'd give you a second look now that she's dating Aiden anyway.”
“I thought you said she was only pretending to be with him to get further in her career or something.”
“You're not getting it.” She flicks her chestnut hair over her shoulder and huffs out a breath. “It doesn't matter if they're together or not. It doesn't even have anything to do with this. But you've been hung up on the same girl for years when, let's be honest, she hasn't thought about you since the day she left.”
“I said I'm not in love with her, damnit.”
“And she probably doesn't even remember your name,” she continues, ignoring me. “It's pathetic, really. Why would she be interested in a small-town mechanic when she's around guys like Aiden McCallister?”
“Well, ain’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever said?”
“Sorry, babe.” She gives me a faux sad smile and rises onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. “But someone had to say it. I'm just sorry that someone had to be me.”
No, she's not.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Great.” The grin she sets free is wide and victorious. “I'll see you later, then.” Her eyes fall to my oil-stained hands and she grimaces. “Make sure you clean yourself up before you have your pastries. I really wish you'd start wearin’ gloves.”
Shuddering, she finally turns and leaves.
Perhaps I should take more notice of the relief I feel at my girlfriend being gone. I should realize that it's not normal, take it as a sign to end things or, at the very least, take a subtle step back to minimize potential damage to her feelings.
But I do none of those things.
Not now. Not later. Not for a long time.
Instead, I look up again to the television screen, where Thea's face is still playing in silence. Her copper hair, eyes like jades and the freckles she keeps secret from the world…everything about her makes my breath catch.
Maybe India is right.
Her delivery may have been less than sympathetic and the words biting and cruel, but there is truth to be found in them.
It is pathetic that I'm still pining after a woman I haven't seen since I was eighteen. She probably did forget me the moment she first saw the Hollywood sign, and yeah, if I'm honest with myself, I bet she does have a hard time remembering my name.
I used to think what we had meant as much to her as it did to me, but if that were true, then she wouldn't have left me the way she did.
And the thing is, I would never have held her back from chasing her dreams. Sure, I wanted her to stay with me in Tupelo, but if LA was where her heart was set, then best believe I would have followed her there.
I thought she knew that.
Guess not.
