I can’t stand it any longer. I have to tell him.
“Hey, ladies, I’m so sorry, but I have to duck out early.” This is met with a response of sad groans and resistance. “I know, I know, but I promised my dad I’d help him out early tomorrow morning.” That part is a lie I just tacked on, but they don’t need to know. I do actually need to stop by my parents’ house tomorrow; I’ve skipped too many Sunday dinners lately.
“Willow, I’m so excited and happy for you and Landon.” I squeeze her tightly before turning to say goodbye to the rest of my friends.
I feel giddy, excited, and nervous to tell Remi my feelings. It’s been almost three weeks since I’ve heard from him or seen him, and I have no idea if he’ll even want to see me, but I don’t care in this moment. I drive toward his house, stopping off at the liquor store to get a bottle of champagne. I’m not sure if it’s to celebrate, but it feels like the right thing to grab.
I turn up the radio, singing Taylor Swift’s “ME!” at the top of my lungs, but my smile falters when I pull into Remi’s driveway and see an unfamiliar car. It’s a Saturday night, so there’s a pretty good chance one of his buddies is over playing poker, but the cherry-red sports car isn’t one any of his friends drive. I turn the radio down until I hear only the sound of the engine idling, then I shift the car into park and shut it off. I take a deep breath, grab the champagne, and walk to his front door as quickly as I can so I don’t lose my nerve.
I knock, my breath catching in my throat when I don’t hear anything on the other side of the door. I’m tempted to look in the front window but decide against it, raising my hand to knock again when the door opens and a surprised Remi greets me. His eyes widen at the sight of me as he glances back over his shoulder and then closes the door a little.
“Uh, hi,” I say. “I know this is unexpected, but . . .” I hold the champagne bottle with a big grin, unsure of what else to say.
“Oh, hey.” His brows knit together, an expression of confusion darkening his face. “What—what are you doing here?”
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, and with how things ended between us, I wanted to come over and see you—and apologize. I’ve missed you.” I reach my hand out and pull at his shirt a little, something I hope he takes as flirtatious.
“Yeaaah, it’s not really . . .” he glances back over his shoulder again and then steps out onto the porch to shut the door behind him. “Not really a good time. I’ve got someone here.” He rubs the back of his head like he always does when he’s nervous.
“I’m so sorry,” I say when I hear a woman’s voice on the other side of the door.
“Everything okay, baby?” she asks from a distance.
Did—did she just call him “baby”? Oh my God, is he on a date? My stomach drops and heat creeps up my face. I’m mortified.
“Oh my God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you had a woman over.” I feel so fucking stupid. I walk backward until I bump into the railing of the stairs on the porch.
“August, wait!” He reaches out, but I don’t let him touch me. I turn and bound down the stairs toward my car, almost falling with the champagne still in hand.
“No, seriously, have fun. I’ll text you!” I say, sounding a little overly loud and cheery with a touch of hysteria. I jump into my car, waving madly before throwing it in reverse and getting the hell out of there. Self-preservation is doing its damndest to prevent him from seeing my heart shattering into a million little pieces.
I turn Taylor Swift up as loud as my car stereo will go and scream my lungs out, singing so I don’t cry. But the moment I get back to my apartment, shut the door, and look down at the bottle in my hand, I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I pop the cork, don’t even bother with a glass, and kick off my shoes before sitting on the couch and drowning my tears in $5.99 champagne.
8
Remi
I stand on the front porch, watching August stumble and catch herself before taking off. She was clearly embarrassed and I’m not sure why. She’s seen me on dates around town over the years—hell, she even set me up with a few of the women.
I shove my hands deep into my jeans and look up at the night sky. It’s so clear tonight with the stars twinkling against a velvety backdrop. I have every right to be happy. I know this, but I still feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of August knowing that I have another woman over.
“Hey, you okay?” Leigh’s soft voice from behind startles me a little and I see she’s walked out on the porch to join me.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, reaching for her and pulling her toward me. I stand behind her with my arms wrapped around her waist as we both look out at the expansive sky.
“So who is she?” she finally asks.
“Just a childhood friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids—we go way back.” I know I could say a lot more about the relationship, and at some point I’ll have to if things between Leigh and me progress. She deserves that much, but right now, I’m not ready to open that can of worms.
Memories of lying in the back of my pickup as high schoolers flash back to me. Me giving my hoodie or flannel to August to wear because she never remembered to bring something warmer. We weren’t those kids who dreamt of getting out of our small town like some of our friends. We loved it here. Still do. This is home. I feel my heart clench when I think about that word: home. I can still hear August saying to me, “I don’t want to leave Grand Lake. It’s home to me, but when I really think about it . . . home to me is where you are.”
“Let’s go inside,” I say as I kiss the top of Leigh’s head. I don’t want to ruin things with her before they even start just because I’m too hung up on my past to fall for someone new.
Leigh and I spend the next hour cooking, laughing, and sipping wine, and it feels easy and natural. She’s quick-witted and not afraid to speak her mind. I let myself get lost in her stories about college and all the fun and exciting places she’s traveled. She’s different than any other woman I’ve dated. My mind wants to compare her to August. Does she make me laugh like August does? Does she make me nervous with excitement and anticipation? Does she make me want to hold and protect her from the shit of this world? But I don’t let myself actually answer those questions. I can’t keep lingering on what I could’ve had with August. I need to let her go.
“How’s the salad coming along? Looks amazing!” I walk up behind Leigh, placing my hands on her arms as she adds in ingredients I’m completely unfamiliar with.
“Amazing. I brought some candied walnuts to toss in. I think they really go with the herbed goat cheese. Taste,” she says, popping a walnut with a touch of cheese on it into my mouth.
“Fantastic,” I say as I grab her hand before she can take it away. I wrap my lips around the tips of her fingers, licking off the last tiny bit of cheese as my eyes lock on hers. I feel her body tense a little in my arms, and I want to pursue things further—to see what else I can make her body do—but I pull away.