By the time the waitress comes back with our drinks and we give her our order—I have no idea what either one of us ordered, I just pointed my finger somewhere—my body has almost fully rebooted.
Shock and disbelief shift into something else that I’m not sure either one of us is ready for. Not to mention, it’s probably not the place for whatever strong emotions are torpedoing their way through my system anyway.
“What are you doing here, Chloe?” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Maybe that’s due to the fact that my throat is finally less constricted but instead feels like I just forced a serving of nails down.
And saying her name out loud after so long makes my stomach clench.
She swallows a couple times before she picks up her water and drains half of it. It’s impossible to miss her shaky hand that she puts back under the table the second the glass is safely on the tablecloth. “I wanted to talk.”
Something inside me snaps, and heat rushes through my body like it’s trying to burn me up from the inside. I’d like to say I’m the bigger person here but I’m not. I shake my head and snort. “Now you want to talk?”
She nods and bites her lip. Why does she have to bite her damn lip and draw my attention to it?
“After ten fucking years?” I lean across the table as far as I can without pushing things over with my chest. The distance between us shrinks, and my next inhale is filled with her scent. It’s fresh and sweet, and so her. Which makes me even angrier. “Is this all a joke? Did you come to the masquerade ball so you could set all of this up?”
“No, of course not. I had no idea you’d be there. I didn’t even know about the auction. I swear.”
Now she’s the one leaning in, and I don’t know if she expects me to lean back at her approach or what, but I’m immobilized. I’m not sure I could move even if I wanted to.
What kind of spell is she putting on me?
This can’t be happening, not again.
Never again.
I need to move. I have to move for my own sake and put this whole charade to a stop.
The look she gives me couldn’t be more opposite of me. It’s gentle and soft, maybe even pleading, contrary to me sporting the scowl of the year and grinding my teeth. My jaw is so tight, I’m afraid I might crack a tooth.
She swallows. “This isn’t easy for me either, but can you please give me a chance?”
I scoff at her comment, the spell finally broken by her words.
Not easy for her. As if she wasn’t the one who ripped out my heart all those years ago, leaving behind a vastness that no one and nothing has ever been able to fill.
I should get up and leave. Right now. Just push back the chair and walk out without looking back. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy, as my nephews would say.
But of course, things aren’t ever simple.
They used to be easy between Chloe and me, but that’s long over. Just like us.
I wish I could also say we’re a distant memory, but alas, I can’t.
There’s this sick, clearly very delusional part of me, that wants to hear what she has to say.
Since I’m apparently a masochist when it comes to her, I indulge that part, happily—and very irrationally—opening my arms wide to the pain. “Talk.”
Her eyes widen, like she’s actually surprised by my willingness.
Good. Maybe that’ll throw her off, and we can just cut this ridiculous meeting short.
She nods and wrings her hands. “Okay, thank you.” Then she puffs her cheeks and blows out a breath.
Damn it. Another familiar thing. She always did that when she was nervous.
We’re interrupted by the waiter bringing our food and filling up our water, which doesn’t really matter. Most of this evening could be a mute movie, and no one would miss a thing.
She picks up her fork, then puts it back down. “Back then . . . you know when I was moving away. Um . . . Do you remember I wasn’t feeling very well?”
I raise my eyebrows because of course, I know. I was the idiot who called her about five million times, because I couldn’t reach her when I wanted to make sure she was okay.
Her lips flatten and she tips her head once, probably knowing I’m not a willing participant in this conversation. “Well, I got worse when we went to visit my grandparents.”
Fuck, I don’t want to know about this. This was my nightmare back then. Literally.
Her tongue slips through her lips to wet them. “They have some good doctors down there, and you might remember that my grandma had just broken her hip too, so my parents decided it might be best to move there to help her and take care of everything.”
I blink at her before looking away. Her gaze is too much. It holds meaning and history. It holds us. Too much us.
Instead, I focus on my water glass, running my finger over the condensation that’s already left a wet spot on the pristine tablecloth.
A strange laugh escapes her throat, and I look up again, unable to escape this pulsing link between us.
“Well, anyway, I got worse after we left. But both my grandma and I are good now. And I’m . . . well, I’m here I guess.” The corner of her lip disappears in her mouth as she chews on it and stares at her hands.
All the while, my brain has no clue what to do. Talk about too much input with just a few words. Yet not enough. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’s actually here. Sitting right in front of me. More gorgeous than ever, pushing my fight-or-flight urge into total overload.
“Anyway, I wanted to apologize for the way things went down. I should have talked to you and explained what was going on. I hate that I left you hanging like that with just a message, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m really terribly sorry.” She lifts her head a fraction, and her eyes zero in on me once again. They’re shiny, and I look away, focusing on the setting sun in the distance instead.
Studying the orange and purple hues in the sky seems a lot safer than looking at Chloe.
I’m . . . well, I’m here I guess. Her words repeat in my head.
And that is part of the problem. Chloe is here now. I should be asking what was wrong with her. What was so wrong with her that she left without saying why? I should be communicating how angry and hurt I was that she left. But I’ve got nothing.
There are no words.
Because she left and never said goodbye.
And took my heart with her.
Five
Chloe
“And then he just left?” Francesco pats my hair as I’m hunched over, with my head on my forearms on the bar of the Parrot Lounge. After wiping it down with some disinfectant wipe, of course. The last thing I need is getting someone else’s nasties during my meltdown.
Even Francesco’s stink-eye couldn’t keep me from doing it, or his reassurance that of course, his tiki bar was spotless.
My motto: better safe than sorry.
Always.
“Yup, not that I can blame him.” My answer is muffled, just like my ego is bruised, and my brain is a bit wishy-washy at the moment, still not a hundred percent sure what’s going on. “I basically cornered him, making him feel like a freaked-out animal.”
“More wild animal. Rawr.”
His roar sounds more like a cute kitten than a wild animal, and I smile against my warm skin before I peek up at him just as he smiles at someone behind me.