“He doesn’t like me visiting you. He thinks it’s bad for our relationship.”
“He might be right,” I answered, finally turning to meet her hesitant gaze.
“Do you ever think of me—when I’m not around?” she asked softly, her eyes rounding in doubt.
Stepping in closer, so she could feel the breath of my words as they fell from my mouth, I whispered, “Every second, Everly. Every damn second.”
A small gasp escaped her lips as she pushed away from me.
“I should go,” she said. “Being here—it’s not a good idea.”
She was already retreating, her emotions…her physical reactions all crumbling, breaking apart until she was rushing toward the door.
“I’m so sorry for bothering you, August—for ruining your night. It won’t happen again.”
“Everly—damn it. Wait.”
I grabbed her hand, halting her progress. She looked down at our joined hands, her eyes wide with shock.
“Stop running,” I urged.
“I’m not running. I’m going home, where I belong. I want to go home.”
I shook my head, a disheartening chuckle escaping my throat. “Go home then. But don’t tell me a part of you doesn’t want to stay. Don’t tell me that deep down, a part of you wishes you were still here every morning making coffee in that kitchen and helping me develop film in the office. For a split second tonight, you saw it, didn’t you? What life could be like between us?”
Her eyes darkened and suddenly, she twisted her hand from mine.
“No,” she answered. “There is only one man I see in my future. And his name isn’t August Kincaid.”
And then she was gone.
And I was alone once again.
Slamming the door closed, I stomped into the living room and paced, attempting to clear my head.
Why? Why did I do this to myself?
Nothing would ever change.
She was not mine.
Picking up the phone, I did the only thing possible to ease the pain in my heart and the anger I felt toward my own stupidity.
“Hello?” Magnolia answered after the second ring.
“Hey, it’s August,” I replied, trying to act as casual as possible.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you again tonight.”
“Hey—I’m sorry to cancel. A friend had an emergency. It’s all taken care of. I was wondering how many dates I could possibly fit into one evening if we started…now?” I asked, my voice lowering with each word.
Silence followed before I heard, “be here in twenty minutes.” And then the line went dead.
Everly had left her empty mug on the coffee table, I turned and headed for the front door.
She’d made her intentions clear.
It was time I made mine.
Chapter Twenty-One
Everly
If I were a religious person, I would call what I did over the next several days repenting.
Since I wasn’t, I’d just go with calling it reveling in guilt. I felt it in spades.
Guilt over driving to the cliffs when I was angry with Ryan.
Guilt because I’d stayed…because of the things I’d said, things I’d done.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
I hated the word.
Ryan still hadn’t asked where I’d gone after the failed intervention. Part of me thought he already knew, and the other enjoyed the quiet bliss of not knowing. Somehow, in the midst of all this, I’d become that heroine I despised—the one that always made me flip through pages of a book or roll my eyes in a movie because she just couldn’t get her shit together.
I’d become someone I couldn’t stand.
So now I would make amends.
Starting with the wedding plans I’d ignored over the last several weeks. There was so much to do and with the rift currently brewing between Sarah and me, the only person left to handle them was me.
As I looked through dozens of florist and cake brochures, I suddenly missed my best friend incredibly. We were supposed to do this together. Well, actually, she was supposed to pick out everything I liked while I sat here fooling around, making origami swans out of the dozen brochures she’d painfully gathered.
She loved this type of thing—me, not so much. It was why August and I had never hosted parties at the house and why I much preferred to spend an evening snuggled under blankets, rather than in a noisy club. I’d spent years living in other people’s homes and never having one of my own. For a child—having a place to call their own is one of the most precious things on earth. And I’d never had that until August and I moved into that tiny one bedroom home on that beautiful, crowded street in the city. That was the first time I’d ever had a place to call my own. No roommates, no foster parents—just August, me, and our cute little home.