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It took a few heartbeats to choke out the words. “Is she really getting back together with Noah?”
There was a long pause, especially long for Opal who thought it was her duty to fill the air with words nonstop. Her voice was quiet when she finally answered. “Yes, she is.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
My chest squeezed so tight, I wondered if I was having a heart attack.
“Closing in thirty seconds,” Frannie yelled. “If you want to send something, get a move on, Cassidy.”
I swallowed and walked to the counter in a daze.
Frannie stared at me. “Well? Hand it over.”
I lifted the envelope to the counter and slid it over to her side. She went to take it, but I couldn’t seem to let go.
“You have to actuallygiveme the envelope to ship it.”
I stared at her, or maybe through her, because I wasn’t actually seeing anything but my future disappear.
Frannie frowned. “Now or never, Cassidy.”
I blinked back to the moment. “You know what? On second thought, I’m going to deliver this myself.”
CHAPTER 37
Coming to His Senses
Josie
I reached for the light switch and turned back to look at the empty lab with a sigh. Had I ever been happy here? I’d thought I was at one time. But maybe I’d mistaken success for happiness. Lord knows my mother taught me they were one and the same.
I flicked the switch off and pulled the door shut. I’d been back a week now, and it hadn’t gotten any easier—not going to work, not going home to my empty apartment, not the ache in my heart. I took the elevator down to the ground floor and pushed through the turnstile door, dumping out onto the busy Manhattan street. As much as everyone being in your business in Laurel Lake could be a lot, there was something nice about walking around and everyone saying hello. I missed that. Here, I felt invisible.
The walk from my office to home was a little more than a half hour. Usually I hopped on the subway, but tonight I needed the fresh air. I stared down at the concrete like half the commuters, avoiding eye contact, lost in thought.
In the short time I’d stayed in Laurel Lake, it had become my home. Here all I had was four walls, brick, and beams. I’d lived in the same apartment for seven years and didn’t have half as many fond memories inside it as I did in the house on Rosewood Lane. Sure, a lot of those were with Fox. But I liked themeI’d become while living there. The me who appreciated the beauty of a sunset, spent time listening to stories told by my dad’s seventy-year-old friends, and planted in the dirt. The me who took on construction jobs—sure, at times I’d bitten off more than I could chew and needed help—but at least Ibit. Here I didn’t bite into anything. I went to work. Came home to my overpriced apartment. Maybe went to dinner or drinks with a friend once or twice a week.Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Could I leave New York and make Laurel Lake my home? Or would it be too painful to be so close to the man next door?
Fox.Every time I thought about him, it felt like I’d gotten the wind knocked out of me. Like there was an emptiness in my chest that I yearned to fill.
I missed him.
I missed the way he only spoke a few words, yet said so much.
I missed the way he was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, even if he pretended they got on his nerves.
I missed the way he couldn’t help but be a gentleman, even though it made him grumpy. Like when I’d hit his mailbox and realized I was locked out of my house the night I arrived, yet he still carried in my luggage.
I missed the way hewasn’ta gentleman in bed.
I walked in a fog, somehow maneuvering through throngs of people on the sidewalk and not crashing into any of them. When I finally came upon my building, I realized I didn’t remember half the trip home. In the elevator, people got on and off. Faces were familiar, and some had probably lived here as long as I did, yet I didn’t know any of their names.
How many people did I get to know in Laurel Lake? Opal, Frannie, Bernadette, Bettina, Rita, Porter, Hope, Tommy, Rachael, Sam, Reuben... after only two months I bet I could rattle off two-dozen names without having to think long.
I exited the elevator on the thirty-first floor with a feeling of dread. My apartment had become a daily reminder of how empty my life was. But halfway down the hall, movement up ahead snapped me out of my daze. My heart, which had been sitting in my chest like a deflated football, suddenly filled and started beating wildly—beating like it was making up for lost time.
