Page 31 of Gotta Kiss A Few Frogs

I didn’t mean to say it. My mouth was moving before I could stop it, though. “But what if I let her in and I lose her? I can’t…” my voice trails off. I don’t finish the sentence, but I don’t need to.

Her eyes fill with tears again, but before I can kick myself for causing her pain, she says, “Emmett, if you knew how short your time with Maria would have been, would you have changed anything?”

I don’t answer right away. I think back on my life with Maria. As short as it was, we had managed to fit so many good memories into such a small time. Our first date. Me picking her up at her parents’ house, shifting on my feet nervously as I waited for her to walk down the stairs. Those same stairs that I waited for her at on prom night. How she took my breath away when she walked into the room. Our first apartment together. The way her eyes lit up when she took in the tiny space that was officially ‘ours’. “No,” I say, “I wouldn’t have done anything differently. She was worth it.” I’m crying now too, and a part of me realizes that I’m making a scene in the middle of the bar for half the town, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Doris smiles at me and steps back. “Then don’t let the fear of losing someone keep you from living. Keep you from loving, Emmett. Because you deserve to be happy. Maria would want that.”

I’m not sure how I’m going to fix this, but I’m damn sure going to try. Because she’s right. Love is worth the risk. Charley is worth the risk. I nod, straightening my shoulders and say, “okay. I’m not sure if she will still have me, but I’m going to try.”

“And you’ll bring her by for dinner next week,” it’s a statement, not a question and I can’t help but smile.

“Yes ma’am,” I nod at Doris and then turn to TJ and say, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a woman to win over.”

twenty-four

Dear Charley

Every part of me wants to crawl back in bed and forgo today altogether. For all my expertise on love, this is my first experience with genuine heartbreak, and I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know it would feel like I was walking around with a blanket wrapped so tightly around my torso that every breath is a painful achievement.

But as much as I would love nothing more than to wallow, I refuse to allow myself. I did everything I could. I left the ball in Emmett’s court, and he has made it clear he has no intentions of picking it up. His rejection stings, but I’m going to hold my head high and carry on with my life.

I didn’t do anything wrong. Except maybe fall for the man who made it clear he didn’t do love. He was up front with me the entire time and I was the one naive enough to believe I could change his mind. I saw his pain and heartbreak and thought I could be his peace. Shaking my head to clear the gloomy thoughts, I turn my focus back on the task at hand. Tying the laces of my sneakers a little more aggressively than necessary, I rise and grab Cecil’s leash from the hook by the door.

It’s Sunday. Normally my day to rest and write, but I have all this restless energy burning through my body right now and taking my boy for a walk in the fresh air sounds like just what I need. Cecil’s bouncing around so badly that it takes me a couple tries to clip his leash in place. “Are you excited, Cec? Ready to go for a walk?” As if he understands the words, he bounces higher, his tongue lapping out trying to reach my face. His exuberance coaxes a small smile out of me. After taking a second to scratch behind his ear, we’re on our way. With no destination in mind, I take the sidewalk to the right of my home and allow myself to draw in a deep lungful of the cool, refreshing air. Somehow, my heartbreak doesn’t seem quite as suffocating out here.

Part of me will probably always hold out hope that he changes his mind and gives this, gives us, a chance, but I know that’s a foolish wish. And I don’t entirely blame him for that. Love has already done a number on him; he doesn’t want to take the risk again. It would almost be easier if he were a jerk like most of the frogs I’d met before, but he isn’t. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just sad. The soft breeze caresses my cheeks, cooling the tracks of tears I didn’t even realize were falling.

I’m rubbing my face dry with my hand that’s not holding Cecil’s leash when my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. Looking both ways, Cecil and I cross the street before I pull it out. Millie’s face flashes on the screen and I swipe to answer before it disconnects.

“Hey,” I say, holding the phone to my ear as we continue our steady pace down the street. The scintillating aroma of coffee fills the air and I steer Cecil in that direction. Coffee sounds amazing right about now. A caramel macchiato with heavy caramel and whipped cream. Enough sugar to drown my sorrows in.

“...are you even listening to me?” Millie’s annoyed voice finally penetrates my coffee-coma.

“Shoot, sorry. I’m listening. What’s up?” Cecil and I pause in line outside the cute coffee cart, not-so-patiently waiting for my coffee fix.

“Where are you? I thought you’d be home working on your blog by now.”

“I will. I just needed to get out of the house for a minute. We’re grabbing some coffee and fresh air and then I’ll get back to work.” The truth is I’ve been avoiding my blog all week. Having my hopes for true love of my own snatched from me, I’m finding it hard to pick up where I left off. My rose-colored view of love has been muddied and I don’t know how to keep giving love advice like I have any idea what I’m doing.

“Well, you need to check it now. Can you pull it up on your phone?” Millie’s urgency pulls me from my own self-pity as I try to figure out what’s going on.

I need to check my blog out now. Why? “What’s going on?” I ask even as I’m switching the call to speaker and pulling up my web browser. My blog loads and I log into the owner’s dashboard, waiting impatiently as the loading signal appears on the screen. “Millie, why can’t this wait until I’m home?”

“You’ll see,” she says.

I’m about to argue, but it finally populates, and my notifications are lighting up, ticking up to numbers they’ve never reached before, “what?”

“Yeah, your blog might have gone a little viral. But go look at the reader post that’s gotten everyone’s attention.”

I’m dumbfounded for a minute because while my blog has done well, it’s never reached this many people before. A quick glance through the notifications shows the most activity on a reader post from a man calling himself Prince Not-So-Charming. A shuffle from behind me draws my attention back to my surroundings. The coffee cart line. I missed the line in front of me moving and clearing out and now the barista watches me expectantly, ready to take my order, as a handful of people wait behind me, varying degrees of impatience on their faces. Right, I can’t just stand here.

“Give me a minute, Mil,” I say as I order my coffee that I’m not even sure I want anymore and move to one of the small bistro tables dotting the sidewalk, settling Cecil beneath me with his coveted pup-cup.

“Alright, so who is Prince Not-So-Charming?” I ask as my finger hovers over the post, wanting to know what it says, but also terrified to know at the same time.

Millie growls on the other end of the phone. Literally growls. “Just open it, Charley.” Hearing such a normally soft and sweet voice distorted into a growl provides the kick in the pants I need to open the post. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.

Dear Charley,

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