At one point, I took out my phone to check if I had any messages. My parents had texted to check in on me. I’d told them where I was going.
I hadn’t heard from Bridget, not that I’d expected to. It dawned on me that yesterday was the day of Brendan’s party. Bridget didn’t post on Facebook much, only when there was an event involving her son.
I checked her page to see if she had posted any photos. Sure enough, there was an entire album of pictures titled Brendan’s 9th Birthday.
Scrolling through, I couldn’t help but smile. There were pictures of Brendan running around with giant water guns with his friends. Bridget had also rented an inflatable slide.
I stopped at a photo of Bridget and Brendan that nearly took my breath away. She was wearing a blue strapless dress that really brought out her eyes. Her caramel-colored hair was straighter than normal. I had never really noticed how deep her dimples were. She and Brendan both looked really happy.
Keeping my focus on the picture, I tried to imagine what it would be like years down the line to have to look at photos like this, what it would feel like to see her inevitably moving on. There was no doubt in my mind that if she put herself out there, that someone would snag her quickly. She hadn’t a clue how attractive she really was.
How would it feel, Simon?
How would it feel to truly walk away from her? From them? Forever.
I couldn’t describe in words how it would feel. But I was experiencing it in my body. That rush of adrenaline and panic. The anger inside of me that always developed when I thought about her with another man.
Then there was Brendan. He deserved someone who wanted to be a father to him—not a big, goofy friend. A father. I didn’t feel good enough for that role. But did I want it?
Stopping for a moment to look up at the sky, I got chills because there was a faint rainbow forming. It hadn’t even rained.
I continued to scroll through the pictures from Brendan’s party, laughing at myself for thinking I was going to somehow find the answer to my dilemma in a Pokémon piñata.
Bridget had really gone all out. She’d even had place settings featuring the names of each boy written on a piece of folded paper with a different Pokémon character next to the name. She’d taken a separate, close-up photo of each one.
It wasn’t until the last name that I realized maybe I was getting my answer in a Pokémon party after all.
BLAKE.
I couldn’t wait to see her.
Straight from the airport, I drove to Bridget’s house. She’d be leaving to pick up Brendan from school in less than a half-hour, but there was no way I could wait. Which reminded me, I needed to have more sympathy for the addicts that came into the ER. Having never experienced being hooked on anything my entire life, I was generally not empathetic when they came in seeking something to hold them over until their next fix. But I sure as shit could use a Valium myself right now. I had all the signs of addiction—craving and compulsion, loss of appetite, disrupted sleep patterns, spending an inordinate amount of time planning the next fix in my head, and lying to myself that I didn’t need my drug. When I pulled up in front of her house, my hands even began to shake. Totally fucking addicted.
There was a black pick-up truck parked in front of her house. I hoped she didn’t have company. Even though I still had my key and would have liked to sneak up on her, I knocked and waited.
She answered wearing the most gorgeous smile. “Simon! What are you doing here? I thought you were in London for a few more days?”
I responded by pulling her to me for the biggest hug. Although my heart was beating out of my chest still, a strange calm came over me while I held her. I imagined it was a lot like a junkie who took a hit after a long period of going cold turkey. A physical sigh rolled through my body. And God, she smelled incredible—like lilies and orchids. Oddly, until that moment, I wasn’t even sure I knew what those flowers smelled like. I took a long, deep breath in and out and then lifted her off of her feet before swinging her around in a circle. She giggled and it cemented my decision. This. This is the sign I needed.
“God, I missed you, Bridget.”
“I could tell. I think you might’ve broken a rib—you’re squeezing me so hard.”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry.” I reluctantly set her back down on her feet.
“It’s fine. I’m teasing. But what are you doing back so soon?”
“I have some pressing things I need to do.” You.
We were still standing in the doorway when something caught my eye over her shoulder—a man had walked into the kitchen. He was coming from the hall that leads to Bridget’s bedroom. My blood pressure shot up. I pointed with my chin. “Who’s that?”