Page 16 of Falling for My Ex Next Door

I peered out, and there she was, as beautiful as the day. Her bright face was so serene and lovely. I didn’t spend a minute longer inside and carelessly rushed outside.

I found myself wanting to tell her how beautiful she was. I wanted to touch her baby curls with my lips; I wanted to.

But she was not relentless in vanishing as soon as she appeared.

Defeated, I dragged myself indoors. What was I going to do? What could I do? I needed to see her at all costs, to talk to her, and to tell her how sorry I was.

I’d never felt so desperate in my entire life, and I felt pathetic, like a drunk starved of his wine.

The TV was on, and someone was showing both the anchor and a small audience how ratatouille was prepared.

Fortunately, it made me remember how much Clara loved chicken pot pie. She would literally want to have it all the time while we were dating, and I was more than grateful to my mom for having trained me in the art of cooking.

While I prepared the dish, I could only think of the smile I wanted to see on her face. I was the cause of her shift in behavior. I admitted it, and I wanted to remedy it. I didn’t know how to be especially careful with her feelings, but I would try my best at it. It had to be today and not any other day.

While preparing the pie, I also proposed inviting her to the upcoming company anniversary celebration.

Approaching her porch, I could hear my thumping heart. It was as though it was battering my chest. I was indeed nervous and, worse, afraid of rejection. I was extending the olive branch, but it was her choice whether to accept it or not.

The fragrance of the fresh flowers that aligned her porch seemed to put me at ease. I combed my hair back and adjusted the collar of my shirt. Suddenly, before I could ring the doorbell, it all struck me as a déja vu; it was all coming back to me, the past.

I can remember, just like yesterday, the first time we met. Daisy had perfected a meet-cute for us, but we had been so panicky that we went out for drinks.

That past that held the freshest nerves of love, when she had hiccups, and my palms couldn’t just stop sweating out my anxiety. That time, when we had our first kiss, I could have sworn that I would never have anything to do with the family business or plans for the company to become the next big thing in California.

I rang the doorbell. No response came. I rang it again, and for a long while, it seemed that I was already being rejected by the tinkling of the doorbell.

Chapter Five

Clara

Ididn’t know if I had seen right or not, but I had surely spotted something close to longing in his eyes before I dashed into my house. He had looked at me just the way he would look at me three years ago. I suddenly felt a tugging in my heart, a medley of pain and sweetness. It was a bittersweet emotion. I didn’t know how it came about.

The happy times we had shared were distinctly beautiful to remember. Yet, they couldn’t exist without the sad times when my heart had ached and there had been no sign of ever recovering.

I played the scene repeatedly in my head, the scene of how I had apparently and intentionally avoided him. Though unsure how it had made him feel, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. I was sure I was doing the best for both of us, the right thing. It was worth it; eventually, no one would get hurt.

As I dedicated time to working on the customer service plans I had for the coffee shop, I came to realize that it was not truly easy to run a business. I knew it was difficult to be a business owner since I had only worked with other organizations. Even when laid off, I had not thought of starting my enterprise. It took a great deal of wits and, yes, funds, the latter of which I was lacking.

Tapping away on my computer, I attempted to create a budget following what I had planned for the coffee shop. I knew I wasn’t going to be done within a few hours, but after I was done, I intended to share my ideas with Old Napoleon. He was experienced with age, and yes, he was a good friend of Aunt Madeline’s. I thought letting him in on whatever was going on with the coffee shop wouldn’t be bad.

I rubbed my eyes, they were beginning to hurt and then-

Was that the doorbell?

It rang again. Who could it be? I had not ordered anything, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

Oh! Could it be Daisy? That sneaky kitten! Despite how much I tried to get her to tell me when she was going to be coming, she had been adamant. Well, I slipped off the bed; it was going to be fun reuniting with her after all this time.

Crossing the living room, I reached for the door. My heart dropped. That ached. What was he doing here? I never-oh, my God!

“Clara, wait-”

The door refused to close; his long, athletic leg was viciously hindering it.

“What?” I never knew if my facial expression was determined enough to chase him away. I wasn’t going to let him into the house, that was for sure.

“Clara, please, you have to listen to me. Give me a chance to speak to you.” His eyes begged.

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