Charlie’s voice was sharp, and it snapped my head up. “Yeah, what’s up, boss?”
He walked over with a cup of coffee and a scowl. “You okay? You look sick.”
“Oh, yeah. Not sick. Just havin’ trouble sleeping. New job nerves, I guess,” I finished quickly. I didn’t want Charlie to think I was too unstable to do this job.
His eyebrows knit together like he was concerned. I was still within my thirty-day trial period, so my behavior was under a microscope. Even the bikes I worked on, this one included, came with heavy supervision given that I was new in the shop and they had a perfect reputation to uphold. I didn’t mind it. And honestly, I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in two weeks. A little supervision was needed.
“Alright,” he said. But he didn’t really seem convinced. “We’re all going to the bar after work tonight. Wanna grab a beer?”
I wanted to sleep.
Scratch that. I wanted Fiona.
“Probably,” I hedged. I usually loved going out with my coworkers at past jobs. It was an easy way to make friends. I’d said no to every invitation, though, and it felt like a test I was failing. You didn’t have to get along with the other mechanics. But there were some unspoken rules in the bike world and being able to grab a beer and shoot the shit was one of them.
“I mean yes. I do.” I laughed. “A couple beers would probably help me sleep, huh?”
“Puts me out,” he said. “You settling in okay with your apartment?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Charlie looked like he wanted to say more. But instead he walked back into the office and left me to it. Rusty’s wasn’t a big shop—there was room for about four mechanics, and some work was done in the large lot out back. The other mechanics seemed nice, and there was always good music on and hot coffee in the back. The bikes were amazing and fulfilled every dream. I didn’t have a reason to complain.
I was just miserable. Totally, completely, fucking miserable.
My phone rang—Mateo calling. Checking to make sure Charlie was busy, I slipped out the side door to stand beneath the warm L.A. sun. It was pretty here. Beautiful. I’d explored some beaches and canyons and taken a couple nice rides.
And then I’d gone home, stared at my television, feeling depressed. And then lay in bed, wide awake, feeling like shit. My days were usually a combination of miserable then depressed then shitty.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” I said as I answered the phone. “I miss you.”
“Miss you too, hermanito,” Mateo said. “We were with Pop and Angela last night. There was a great show at The Red Room, and we got both Angela and your dad out on the dance floor.”
I propped my boot up on the wall and enjoyed the sun on my face. “He’s so in love, and it’s so obvious.”
Pop and I spoke every other day right now. I was homesick for the first time ever, and I think he knew. Sometimes it was only for a few minutes, but he’d at least grumpily check in, ask me if I was eating, then tell me to call Fiona.
Every time.
“Rafael and I got your recommendations for our Vegas bachelor party.”
“And?” I asked.
“Some very dangerous ideas, but I like the overall theme.”
“Is bungee jumping over a pit of tigers dangerous?” I asked. I’d sent Mateo the wildest activities I could find. It was the best night I’d spent here so far, dreaming of a time eight months from now when I’d get to be with my best friends again.
“We’ll see, I guess,” he said, laughing.
I rubbed my thumb against my bottom lip. “I got your wedding invitation yesterday.”
“Good,” he said smoothly. “First time I’ve ever known an address to send it to.”
I squinted into the sun, unsure of what to say next. In my darkest moments, I didn’t think I’d get invited to Mateo and Rafael’s wedding. Not because they were bad people, but because I’d been such a terrible friend, I would have deserved it. I would have gladly planned their bachelor party even if I didn’t get to see the ceremony. But it had arrived yesterday and had been my only glimmer of happiness in days.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I said. “I mean it. You didn’t have to forgive me like that. You didn’t have to—”
“Grudges are only good if the other person refuses to change and stays an asshole,” Mateo interrupted. “You, my friend, heard my message loud and clear. We want you there. You’re family. My brother should be standing up there with me on the most important day of my life.”
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Yeah, I am,” he said. “And in case you didn’t catch it, I’m asking you to be my best man.”
I sucked in a breath. Then grinned up at the sun. “Nothing would make me prouder than standing with you on your wedding day.”
“This makes me so happy, I can’t even say,” Mateo said. “My mother is going to cry her eyes out when I tell her.”
“Should I send her flowers, just in case?”
“Aw, she’d love that,” Mateo said. “I have another idea. You could take Fiona as your date.”
The sound of her name was like taking a slap to the face. I winced, rubbed my chest. “Shit, I, um… I don’t know.”
“Max, how are you doing really?” His voice was too nice. I was going to lose it on the phone. My second night here, I’d called Mateo, who’d put Rafael on speakerphone, and I’d delivered the news of our breakup. The more I talked about it, the more I was convinced that I’d made the right call, even if I felt like I’d been run over by one hundred trucks in a row. I knew it would hurt now, for a little while, but I’d be back to my old ways in no time. Just like usual. Just like my mom.
Fiona deserved a man who would stay forever.
But now, two weeks later, everything felt worse.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“On a scale of one to ten,” Mateo said. “One being that you’ve had sex with a different woman every night since being in L.A., and ten being that you cry yourself to sleep surrounded by empty ice cream containers… where are you?”
I snorted and then said, “Oh, ten, of course.”
Mateo went quiet.
I went quiet.
I hadn’t lied when Mateo and I had spoken a week ago. I thought things were still kinda normal. I felt fucking awful but also knew it had to let up at some point. So I hadn’t really mentioned it.
“Max,” he said gently. “Are you pining for Fiona?”
“Pining is a fucking understatement,” I said bitterly.
“You want me and Rafael to fly out there?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly about to cry again. “I’m really okay.”
My voice wavered. The first week I thought about our breakup constantly. Every word I’d said, the look on her face, the feeling I had in my stomach—like a knife was gutting me.
The second I stepped onto that fire escape and saw you, I felt it. Sparks, chemistry, a connection. Fate, the universe, destiny. Did you feel it too?
The most beautiful woman in the world believed I was her one true love, and I’d left.