Page 8 of When We Meet Again

I’d like for you to try something—not for me, but for yourself…

Keep track of incidents that have “worked out” without you having any influence on them within the past year. When you tense, remember to relax.By the end of the week, you should have enough pleasant incidents listed. Notice how when you change your thinking, you change your life.

Until next time,

Tom

P.S. You won’t heal if you’re trying to become who you were before the trauma. That version of Waverly no longer exists. There is a new you trying to be born. Be sure to breathe life into that person.

CHAPTER 4

ROMAN

I’m not sure how long it’s been since she’s left the house. One side of her blonde hair is matted to her head, and the other side looks big enough to harbor the entire flock of birds from Alfred Hitchcock's movie.

“Why are you looking at me?” she asks with a glaring side-eye. Despite the double hands flicking me off on her sweatshirt and recent questionable hygiene, she’s beautiful. I was never one to be attracted to older women, but damn—even in her darkest days, she’s gorgeous.

“Well? If your idea was to get me out of the house just to sit in the parking lot of my building, I’m leaving.” She crosses her arms against her chest as I turn to the steering wheel.

I clear my throat and start my truck. If I knew it was going to be this easy to get her out of the house, I would have brought my bike. The engine revs to life.

“I need to run to the boardwalk real quick to pick up my dry-cleaning first. I’ll only be a second.”Lies.I texted the owner before I got in the truck. I told him to lie to me and say my suits weren’t ready. I don’t even have dry cleaning there. When she agreed to leave the house, I panicked because there wasn’t one single errand that I had to run.

Waverly nods and leans her head back against the seat. I watch as her fingers slide up the door handle to the window switch. I mirror her. Fresh air is good. It’s a start.

Waverly actually wantedto get out of the truck to come with me. Fortunately, the owner did what I asked, I even slipped him a twenty for lying. Although, I’m not sure I had to get him to lie. She seems more than willing to hang out right now.

“You want to hit up that ice cream place around the corner? My treat.” Our arms brush against each other and it steals the blood from my head and sends it straight to below my belt. Her face is slightly flushed, or maybe that’s just her coloring finally returning to normal with the vitamin D she’s getting. This boardwalk stroll feels a little more intimate than when we’d hang out, though, so maybe her skin is actually flushed.

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yes! I haven’t had it since the last time we went…” her voice trails off. The last time we went was over three years ago.

We round the corner, and I admire the ocean. “Kensi, did you see—” I turn to her, but it turns out I’m talking to a wall.

I glance back at Waverly and look down at her shaking hands.

“Hey, you okay?” I step toward her.

She turns to face me, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. Her flushed skin is now pale and her eyes are wide, gaze traveling to the ocean behind me. “The water…is that a wave? We need to go! Rome, please.” She grabs my hand, trying to pull me back the way we came, and I let her. Accompanying her tight grip is a clammy palm.

Dammit. I didn’t think.Once we turn the corner, I stop and pull her toward me. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.” I feel so stupid right now, I was just so happy she’d agreed to get out of her apartment that I didn’t think about being near the water.

Patrick used to tell me all the time that the reason I was single was because I can’t read women. I have no intuition of what they want or need. That I was “destined to fuck around and that-be-that.” I never told him how much his words twisted me up inside—and now I never can.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Let’s get you out of here.” I guide her to the right, down the street to where I’m parked.

“Waverly!” A voice comes from behind us, and we both turn in sync toward the sound.

Waverly smiles a smile that never reaches her eyes. It’s more like she’s showing her teeth to a dentist. “Hey, Victoria.” She hugs her friend hello before letting go and stepping back beside me.

“Victoria, Roman. Roman, Victoria,” Waverly mumbles, lazily gesturing between us.

I shake her hand. “We’ve met before…a lot,” I say, glancing at Waverly.

Waverly lightly taps her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh my God, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just…” She waves her hand around and Victoria laughs it off.

Victoria has to be about five-feet tall. She’s on the shorter side with dark curly hair and eyes to match. The complete opposite of Waverly.

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