“Everly, stop—please,” he pleaded. “Why are you here?”
I turned, my hands nearly trembling as I stood before him. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
His eyes rounded as he took in my appearance. “Come on. Why don’t you come inside for a while? Maybe you can make coffee for the both of us?” he suggested.
I nodded, but then asked, “What about your plans?” I looked down at the keys in his hands that he quickly stuffed in his pocket.
“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Okay,” I relented.
I followed him up to the door that still had the brass knocker with our initials on it. I tried to ignore the guilt I felt as I passed through the entryway, but it seared a path through my belly nonetheless.
I was not doing anything wrong. This was just another one of our meetings.
An impromptu meeting between August and me—nothing more.
Tonight, I’d become a grand master at lying to myself.
“Why don’t you start the coffee while I make a quick call?” he suggested, as he shrugged off the light jacket he had on. I stood there watching him tug his shirt from his pants, until I realized I was staring and quickly scurried into the kitchen.
Nothing had changed since the last time I’d been in here, which made me smile. The kitchen had always been my domain, and it felt good to be able to roam around in here without having to think at all. I pulled out cups while the coffee brewed. I didn’t bother listening to August’s conversation. He obviously wanted privacy since he’d walked into the other room, and if he was talking to another women—which I highly suspected he was—I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to hear it.
Knowing I was the cause of a possibly botched date was already weighing heavy on my mind.
I was supposed to be helping him move on…not tread backward. And I had enough guilt when it concerned that man.
“Almost ready?” he asked, stepping into the large space, dominating it instantly. The kitchen could have been a football field wide and it still wouldn’t have been big enough in that instant. His presence had always seemed larger than life, and that was one thing that hadn’t changed—past or present. He could change his clothing style, the way he wore his hair, and even the build of his body, but his invading presence never changed. It always affected me. Invaded me. Took over my senses.
“Just about,” I replied, tapping my fingers against the cold marble countertop in a rhythmic motion. The last bit of coffee brewed, gurgling and steaming until the last drop fell. I quickly turned to grab the sugar and milk and returned ready to fix everything up.
Only to realize I had no idea how he took his coffee anymore.
Looking up at him, I opened my mouth to ask, but he smiled. “Just black,” he answered.
I only nodded as I pivoted back toward the refrigerator to return the milk. I’d grabbed everything on impulse, ready to dump two spoonfuls of sugar and a slash of milk into his cup like I always had.
How easily I’d fallen back into an old routine.
“I take it that’s different?” he spoke up.
“Yes,” I answered, “but good. Now you’re a purist like me.” I gave him the slightest hint of a grin. His eyes narrowed in on my lips, noticing the tiny change in my expression. I quickly wiped it away with a fake cough, using my hand to cover it.
Coward.
I don’t know why I continued to treat him so poorly. After the amount of time we’d spent together, I finally understood the difference. He might carry the same facial features, wear similar clothing and hairstyle, but beyond his physical attributes, August had changed.
For the better.
And yet, I was still hell bent on punishing him for who he’d been before.
Maybe it was left over resentment for the last few years of our relationship—left over feeling seeping through my psyche. Or perhaps I was too afraid to get attached then suddenly discover one day I’d grown close to a man who’d disappeared yet again because his memories had returned.
All great questions to bring up with Tabitha…if only I had the guts.
Admitting them to myself was one thing. Saying them out loud to someone else seemed drastic…like I was actually owning them—acknowledging August as an important person in my life, rather than just contemplating the possibilities in my convoluted, messed-up head.
Picking up my cup of steaming hot coffee, I glanced up at him as he did the same.
“Do you want to sit in the living room?” he offered. I nodded and followed him into the large, inviting space. I’d designed this room for comfort, going against the stuffy professional designer’s idea of style for a more laid-back atmosphere. She’d chosen sleek leather and hard lines. All I’d envisioned were legs sticking to furniture in the summer and backaches year round. I’d told her to try again, and when she’d come back, clearly peeved, she presented a much less formal idea with soft suedes and plenty of places to kick up your feet and relax.