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“You still pouting?” Warren asks.
“Maybe,” I say. He lifts an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Yes.” I slump down in a chair at the kitchen island bar.
“You’re starting to make Tripp depressed and trust me that’s hard to fucking do,” he says. “Are you really that hung up on her or are you just being dramatic?”
That catches my attention, and I straighten up to face him, looking him right in the eye.
“I know it seems crazy with what little time has passed, but I’m in love with your sister.”
Heston chokes mid-drink and spits water in front of him. “Shit,” he coughs, “full send.”
I nod. Tripp smiles, and Warren stares at me. I don’t break eye contact. He seems to think for a moment, but then puts both of his hands on the counter and leans toward me.
“Then get off your ass and stop sulking for fuck’s sake,” he lectures. “We all miss her, most of all you, apparently. Figure out a way to convince her to come back for good.”
Maybe he’s right. But my gut tells me he’s not.
“She has to make that decision for herself,” I sigh.
Chapter 39
Blythe
My rule of thumb has always been to follow your dreams, not a man. And I stand by that to this day. But the redacted truth in that cynical philosophy is that with the right partner, you shouldn’t have to choose between the two.
So I’m not choosing. I want both.
Problem solved! Unicorns and rainbows!
Wrong.
It’s a lot harder than it sounds.
That realization is why I’m standing beneath the spray of a lukewarm shower in the hotel room with my hands braced on the wall and my head hanging low. Have I ever really understood that stupid little organ in my chest?
It beats slow and sad, protesting the distance between itself and Westridge. Not just because Gage is there, but because it got a taste of close proximity to my family and my hometown. And it wants to go back.
Right there with you, heart.
As a part of the resident tour, I sat in the gallery to observe a routine surgery this morning and felt nothing. I waited for the burst of passion or a rush of adrenaline, but those sensations never came. My heart didn’t sing the way it did when the fresh air sweeping off the fields of the ranch touched my lungs.
I lather face wash into my hands and scrub at my tear-stained face, begging for the soap to wash away more than just the makeup. I miss home. I miss him.
What am I doing here?
* * *
“That’s wonderful news! I’m so happy for you Mom.”
“We haven’t worked the details out yet, but I’m thrilled about it.”
She called me first thing this morning, as she always does, but this time with a surprise. She’s been offered a job as the head baker at Sofia’s newly renovated café. It’s a huge pay upgrade, and she has adored baking for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I dream about the bread she used to wake up early to make for us.
Hearing her looking forward to her new job, a lightness enters my chest. I’m proud and beyond happy for her. I pick up my pace as I look both ways and cross the busy street before the stop light turns green.
“I’m here at the hospital for a meeting. Send me pictures of all the yummy bread you make for the café tomorrow okay?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” She pauses on the line for a moment while I continue my walk. “How are things there?”
