Page 13 of Those Two Words

I finish off my wine and go through my nightly routine before cocooning myself into my comforter, ready to get a good eight hours. Only I find myself staring aimlessly at the small picture frame on my bedside table. How did we ever get here? I think to myself. From best friends to the man, I…well, whatever we were is so far from what we are now that I can’t see us ever finding our way again.

After hours of tossing and turning, my brain finally switches off. The last thing I think is Patrick Sadler will never be a stranger to me, no matter how much we act like it.

Taking in a deep breath of salty, crisp air, I watch the waves retreat from the tips of my boots at Piper Beach. Snow still covers the beach, but patches of golden sand peek out along the water’s edge. The crashing of waves and distant cries of seagulls are sounds I didn’t know I missed until this moment. A strong sense of nostalgia carries with the wind.

Summer barbecues. Sand-covered hot dogs. Water fights in the shallow waters. Hot cider on cool fall nights.

I managed to get a few hours of sleep, but my body decided it was time to wake up before the sun today. That would have been fine had I remembered to stock coffee in my apartment, but not having any gives me a good reason to pay Quinn a visit this morning. For now, the cold winds whipping across my face will have to do its best at waking me up. Trudging down the beach, the satisfying sound of snow crunching beneath my feet, I try to remind myself of Harriet’s words last night. That confidence is now overshadowed by nerves the closer the clock ticks to the start of my shift.

My brain seems to be working overtime this morning and a swarm of negative words and questions swirls around my brain like an angry hurricane.

Selfish. Disloyal. Heartless.

What would her mother think?

It’s hard not to presume people think the worst of me, when I spent years thinking the same things about myself.

A sudden gust of icy wind hits me in the face, making my eyes water and ears ache. Calling time-out on today’s morning outing, I walk back to my apartment. I look up the hill that is Robin Road, leading right through the town, and puff my chest to prepare myself for the steep walk. The view is always better going down, plus, my thighs aren’t used to such steep inclines anymore.

The sun breaches the horizon as I reach my apartment, the sky now a hue of pinks, purples, and oranges. As I’m unlocking my door, a smiling face waves at me through the window of the bakery. Quinn gestures to the coffee machine and I nod my head and hold up my hands, letting her know I’ll be ten minutes.

We hit it off immediately. She is probably the bubbliest and most welcoming person I have ever met, and is a tiny little thing, with envious curves and an infectious smile.

Unlocking the first door, I jog up the small flight of stairs, unlock the main door to my apartment, and strip out of my clothes. I trade my leggings and fleece for a pair of distressed jeans, dark green sweater, and black ankle boots. I’m not short at five foot nine, but a little heel gives me that extra boost of confidence. I glance at myself in my bedroom mirror. I did my best to hide the shadows under my eyes, and my hair is thrown up in a messy bun as usual. A quick swipe of mascara and blush makes me look less ghoulish, and I accept it’s the best I’m going to look today.

“You’ve got this,” I reassure my reflection. I throw on my coat, head back downstairs, and walk into the bakery just as Quinn is setting my take-out cup of iced coffee on the counter.

“Oh my goodness, you are a fairy godmother sent by the coffee gods,” I groan in excitement. I make grabby hands toward the cup, before grasping the cold plastic between my fingers, and taking a long sip.

“I’m cold from watching you drink that.” She laughs as she wipes down the coffee machine.

I let out a sigh as the sweet, coconut flavor bursts across my tongue and the first hit of caffeine enters my bloodstream. Nothing, and I mean nothing, beats that first sip of coffee in the morning.

“I don’t care, it’s good three hundred and sixty-five days a year, and I’ll never stop.” My voice is much cheerier now that I’ve had some coffee.

“Well, this is on the house.” She places a paper bag with a little bit of grease staining the middle. I’m about to tell her I can’t accept it for free, but she stops me when she points a finger at me and looks very stern for someone so chirpy. “For your first day—a good luck ham and cheese croissant.”

“You had me at cheese.” I take hold of the bag and inhale the melty, gooey goodness that’s definitely Swiss cheese. “Thanks, Quinn.”

“You’re welcome. Knock ’em dead!” She cheers, and I can’t help laughing at her enthusiasm as I wave goodbye and make my way back outside.

Making a new friend since coming back to town—something I didn’t see happening—makes me feel a little lighter and puts a pep in my step. My commute to work is short and I reach my destination in seven minutes flat; one of the best things about my new apartment is that it is exactly two blocks away from the restaurant. It would probably take me less time on a normal day, however, the sidewalk is still extremely icy, so my steps are taken with caution.

Although I’m still a ball of nervous energy and feel like I might puke any second, this day has started off okay, and I shimmy on the spot in celebration when I reach the front door of the restaurant. Only I forget that the sidewalk is moonlighting as an ice rink today, and it’s too late to right myself, because in a split second, I’m on my ass and covered in iced cold coffee.

Feeling momentarily dazed from my fall, I lie there motionless, waiting for my vision to clear. Only, when it does, I’m met with the angry stare of my new coworker.

Yay first day!

seven

PATRICK

Watching Jo do this little dance from across the street makes me forget who we are for a second. The elated look on her face and wiggle of her hips remind me of the old Jo, and I don’t have the grit to tear my eyes away—which is fortunate, because in the blink of an eye she goes careening backward and almost cracks her head on the concrete.

Cursing, I check for cars and run across the street, trying not to meet the same fate as her.Once I get to her sprawled-out body, I stand over her and stare down at the sidewalk. Even covered in gray slush and brown liquid I’m captivated by her.

And that pisses me off. These feelings have no right to show themselves after years of being hidden away.

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