He’s right behind me now. I can feel him before I hear him.
“Say? What is it?”
I hang my head. Hate that so many of my thoughts are on the tip of my tongue, and yet I say none of them because they are absolutely ridiculous.
His hand is on my shoulder, prompting me to turn to face him. But I resist. I don’t want him to see the embarrassment stinging my eyes or read the errant thoughts that have no business being there.
“I’m fine, Hayes. Just tired is all.”
“Hmm.” He gives a non-committal sound that makes me scrunch my nose because I know he’s trying to figure out what’s going through my mind.
“Can you open the door, please?”
“What is your biggest fear about this weekend?”
What? The question comes out of nowhere and I hate that my immediate thought is that he means in regards to us. But that’s the crazy talking and once I rein it in, I know he’s referring to Mitch and Sweet Cheeks.
“I told you earlier at the beach. It’s not so much a fear but more my need to prove to them all that I made the right decision. Because if the women in Starbucks were speaking truthfully and if Ryder’s and your hunches are correct, this is what I have to do in order to give my business the chance it deserves to succeed.”
“Do you still love him?”
His question is unexpected and shocks me enough that I whip my head up to meet his eyes. I immediately wish I hadn’t. The porch light is bright and there’s no way I can hide the truth in my eyes from him.
“No.”
“Hmm.”
I don’t know if he believes me. The furrow of his brow and his unrelenting stare tell me otherwise.
“Six years is a long time to be with someone, love them, and then turn the love off like a switch.”
How do I explain to him that while I no longer love Mitch, I can love some of the memories we had together? That there will always be those shared experiences that I’ll look at fondly, but do I still love Mitch? No. I don’t think so.
“I just want my life back to normal,” I whisper, hoping he might be able to understand that. Needing him to be satisfied and leave me be.
His brown eyes hold an empathy I’m not sure I deserve, considering I’m the one who caused all of these changes. “What do you mean by normal?”
“I don’t know anymore.” I shake my head, thankful for the change in topic, and try to explain. “Since Mitch and I split, my life’s been in chaos. The moving out and starting over. The endless hours I spend in the bakery to try and make it work. It’s exhausting and yet I love every single minute of it so I’m not sure how to answer that.” It’s lonely. Not the everyday part because I’m so very happy with my choices, but rather the loneliness associated with not having someone to cuddle with at the end of the night and share stories about my day. I leave that part out.
“Would you change any part of it?”
He asks the question that I know I can answer without hesitation. “No.”
His smile is slight, but there. A nod of his head. A rub of his hand up and down my spine in encouragement.
“Then maybe you’re finding that new normal.”
There’s nothing like waking up to the sun shining and the crash of waves on the beach outside my window. I let myself be lazy. I doodle in my notebook over new potential varieties of cupcakes.
At some point I hear Hayes on the phone somewhere in the house. I’m immediately irritated that he turned his cell on when we’d agreed to unplug. But when I set down my notebook to go say something, I notice the red light blinking on the Villa’s phone. The line is being used. So technically he’s not breaking the rules since he’s on the landline.
I glare at it for a minute. So typical of Hayes to skirt the rules but not break them. He hasn’t changed a bit and why does knowing that bring a stupid smile to my lips?
I figure I’ll let it slide. He’s probably negotiating a bazillion-dollar contract or something so who am I to interfere? Business being done in paradise. I pick up my pad again and start to write just as his voice gets louder. He sounds irritated. Frustrated. Adamant. Snippets of his conversation float down the hall. I overhear him talk about how his public image is taking a hit and then carry on about not giving a shit about the ironclad non-disclosure agreement. How he refuses to play the game anymore.
I’m intrigued at first. Hayes has never been one to rile easily so I’m curious what has him so heated. But then again, my knowledge comes from the teenager I used to know; maybe the fuse of his temper has shortened with age.
Feeling guilty for eavesdropping, I busy myself with a shower and then change the polish on my toes to a brighter color. I enjoy my quiet peace, private space, and the breeze blowing in the window. I even contemplate taking a jog on the beach . . . but since my toenails are still tacky I don’t want to ruin the polish. Besides, I’m on vacation, and exercise is work.