Page 26 of Endless Southern Love

I focus on him and the way he’s looking at me. If anyone saw this photo today, they’d easily say he was madly in love with me.

We were in love.

At least for another two years after this photo was taken.

I set the photo down and pause. There, on my bed is the ring pop he gave me after graduation with the promise of a proposal to come later. He had placed it on my pinky after I complained the plastic pinched my skin. All night, he showed everyone who came near us the rock he’d given me and they all made comments about how sweet it was.

We were going to get married and build a life . . . until I changed everything.

An errant tear falls. I wipe at my cheek and clear my throat before my emotions take over. With a heavy sigh, I scoop everything up and put it back in the box. The contents are out of order and the flowers lose even more petals. “Shit,” I say as I take everything out again and reorganize them. I do my best to ignore the photos, to not look at Wade’s face and remember how much I loved him.

Still do.

Every part of me wants to get over him. To move on and find someone I can share my life with. I know it’s going to be near impossible to do it here. Either I need to move, or Wade does, and there’s no way he’s going to leave Magnolia Grove. He has a successful business here, his family is here, and it’s clear I’m the one with an issue.

Wade has moved on. I need to do the same.

I’ve barely put the lid on the now reorganized box when there’s a knock at the door. I frown, knowing I’m not expecting anyone, and hoping none of the Scouts are out selling things. I hate telling the kids no, but if I buy from one, I have to buy from all.

The box, along with the hat, stay on my bed while I make my way to the front door. There’s another knock. “Coming,” I say as I pick up the pace. I twist the doorknob without looking through the peephole and open the door to greet whoever is on the other side.

And wish I didn’t.

“What are you doing here?”

Arm against the wall, Wade leans in smelling like a sex god, smirking, sleeves rolled up. Freshly showered.

Fuck me.

I swallow hard, hoping and praying he can’t tell I’m bothered by him. He shouldn’t bother me. We’ve been over for years. None of his antics should affect me.

But they do.

“How’s my hat?”

“Is this some sort of visitation request?” I try to make light of the situation. If he wants his hat back, he can have it.

No, he can’t. I don’t even know why I offered. If he says yes, I’m going to tell him it’s at the office.

But then, he’d go there, and I’d have to see him again.

How can I go from never seeing him, from purposely avoiding him for years, to now seeing and speaking to him twice in one day?

I didn’t sign up for this. We’re supposed to hate each other and not want to be friends or chat buddies, or even amical co whatever label someone would add. This isn’t going to be WaLe part two.

“Maybe.” Charm oozes off him in the way he tilts his head. He used to do this while we were dating. I’d like to say it’s how I lost my virginity to him, but that would be a lie. The day we gave ourselves to each other was one of the best days of my life and I have no regrets.

I really don’t want to give him his hat back. But I have no reason to keep it. Sentimental value only means something if you care.

I don’t.

Or at least I need to stop caring. What we had is over and it has been for a long time.

Then why are you still standing there?

“I’ll go get your hat.”

I turn and walk away.

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