Page 39 of Love Bitters

Imogene

Having laid all of my business out for so many people in the past forty-eight hours, I wake the next day expecting to feel some sort of emotional exhaustion. It’s amazing to have it be the exact opposite. Yeah, the guys are still claiming a spot in the back of my mind, but sadness isn’t pressing the thoughts into my chest today.

After getting dressed, I make myself one of Penelope’s peanut butter smoothies before heading into work. Jolene took a personal day, having to do something with Jade, so I’ve only got myself and my book for company for the next eight hours. I swear time seems to be dragging by minute by minute. An hour before lunch, I’m reading the printed menu for the place across the street when an elderly man hobbles through the doors. I flick my eyes up long enough to see him making a beeline for Nancy in the corner, so I focus back on the paper in my hands, but a second motion by the door has my gaze lifting again only to leave me barely able to breathe.

I let my lips pull up into a polite smile even though all my body is really telling me is to puke all over this stupid glossy countertop.

“Can I help you, sir?” I ask, pretending this is just another customer.

Wes smiles wide as he comes to stand in front of me and says, “I’d like to make a deposit, please.”

One of my eyebrows lifts in curiosity, knowing good and damn well he doesn’t bank here. “Do you even have an account here?”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles softly. “Maybe you could open one for me though.” Leaning down to rest his tanned, muscled forearms on the counter, I get my first personal look at him in months. Dear God, those were the longest months of my life, I can’t help but think while checking him out. His bright blond hair looks freshly cut and styled with a slight spike to the top. It’s a look that’s always suited the oval shape of his face and the boyish appearance it still carries. I’d love nothing more than to lean down the rest of the way on the counter and capture those kissable lips with my own, knowing from experience just how soft they are. Although it’s his eyes that do me in. They always have since day one. The hazel-colored orbs never miss anything around him, including the way my breath hitches at his nearness.

My nervousness morphs into a laugh that I try to cover with my hand as I tell him, “Well, Nancy over there in the corner is our accounts manager. She’d love to help you out with that.”

Like flipping a switch, his sweet smile drops into a frown when he admits, “I miss you, Im.”

I’m sure my expression mirrors his as the words hit me in the gut. For the second time since he walked in, I find myself unable to draw a breath into my lungs. If he only knew how heartbroken I’ve been for months. Hearing him say that not only makes me feel like a complete and total asshole, but at the same time, it leaves me wishing things could go back to the way they once were.

Before I can second guess myself, I whisper, “I miss you too.”

In that split moment of giving him the truth, I’ve decided he needs the hard truth too. “We can’t do this here.”

He looks around at the empty lobby, and I prepare myself to argue with him, but all he says is, “Will you come by later? Please?”

I don’t know if they’re aware of the little fact that I can’t refuse any of them when they ask like that. It’d be like telling a sad little puppy no.

The hopeful expression that breaks across his face when I nod makes me finally question whether I’m doing the right thing or not. Looking like he’s having to refrain from jumping across the counter for a kiss, those lips pull up into a wide grin. The sight is enough to have my baby brain kicking in, and I almost forget to ask him what time to be there.

As eager as his posture shows, he responds with, “When you get off work?”

Noting that Nancy’s customer must’ve finished his business because she’s now looking our way like any other boss would, I give him a quick nod and we say polite goodbyes. She can observe all she wants. There’s no amount of shame in the world that would have me turn away from watching Wes leave. For one, I can’t believe he was actually here in the first place, so when he does walk out I’m sure I’ll have trouble trusting that it happened at all. And second, me and Thatch used to give him crap all the time about being an underwear model for this one magazine back in college. He’s never lost the ability to fill out a pair of expensive jeans, and I couldn’t be paid to take my eyes off his ass. It isn’t until the door swings shut that the first surge of panic kicks in. What did I just do?

Nancy relieves me for lunch a little while later, but who am I kidding? There’s no way in hell I can eat anything right now. The closest I can come is nervously chewing on my nails in the break room. After a couple of them, I toss a piece of gum in my mouth instead. Pacing back and forth in the lounge, I can’t seem to sit still for longer than it takes to replay the damn conversation back in my head. I should’ve asked if he was the only one going to be there later. Maybe I’ll get lucky and only have to tell one of them tonight. Almost immediately, my heart rejects that idea. I wouldn’t want Wes having the responsibility of breaking that news to them, and if I tell them together then I’ve only got to do it once. The daunting task mixed with the idea of being in the same room with the five of them again sends me scrambling for the bathroom. There’s not much in my stomach, but it comes up anyway. It’s been a couple weeks since I puked last, and I must say that I did not miss this feeling.

I’m in the process of cleaning my face when Nancy knocks. “Imogene, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I call back.

“Do I need to send you home?” she asks, concerned.

“No, I’m good,” I tell her honestly. After today, there’s no running from my problems anymore, so it won’t do any good to strand Nancy here alone. Here or there, I’ll be doing and thinking of the same thing. At least here, I have somewhat of a distraction. Which is why over the next few hours, in between helping the few customers who find their way inside, I straighten the front counter twice, sweep the entire lobby, and even alphabetize the little brochure stand. Though, I’m sure she notices my odd behavior, Nancy doesn’t say a word about it. By the time she’s ready to lock the door, my stomach is in knots again. Grabbing my stuff, I wave bye and go out to my car to wait for her to set the alarm.

From there, everything seems as though it’s happening in a daze. Cranking the car. Taking the familiar route to their apartment. Parking in the empty space beside Murphy’s truck. Checking my hair and makeup. Fucking breathing.

As I step out into the warm sunshine, a breeze tightens what couple inches of loose fabric of my blouse there are against my body, and I freeze. If I go in like this, they’ll know instantly. My only choice at this point is either to risk it or throw my jacket on. It’s been warming up as we get closer to summer and I meant to take it inside to hang up weeks ago but forgot. Pure luck at my forgetfulness.

Glancing around the lot, I notice three other familiar cars plus Murphy’s truck. They’re all here. The lump in my throat now is no joke; it’s threatening to choke me. I make it all the way to the breezeway that leads to the apartment’s door before having to stop and lean against the wall for support. Did Wes tell them I was coming? How mad are they still going to be? Will the rest of them even care that I left? How are they going to take the baby news? Will I leave here even more broken-hearted than I am now? So many things run through my brain that I’m tempted to hop back in my car and get the hell out of here. If it wasn’t for the promise I made myself earlier about not running anymore, I’d already be halfway home by now.

Taking a deep breath, I don’t let it out until my fist connects with their door. There’s a soft clatter on the other side like someone dropped something before it opens to a beaming Wes. My heart melts at the sight, leaving a few of those questionable insecurities to blow away in the wind.

When he continues to stare without letting me inside, I begin to worry I got the time wrong or something. “Am I too early? There wasn’t really any traffic getting here. I can always come back later or something.”

He lets out a happy bark of laughter before stepping back and motioning me in. I don’t miss the curious look he throws at my jacket, but I have to ignore it. All in due time, sir. At the moment, the only thing that matters is seeing the others for the first time in months. A cleaner shaved Murphy than the last time I saw him finds a spot on the carpet to stare at. Beside him, Thatcher gives me his attention, but I don’t think I want it since he’s glaring daggers. He’s done some serious bulking up too. I definitely don’t remember his arms and shoulders being as broad as they are. Saving the worst for last, my eyes find Evan’s gray ones and see the clear worry within their depths, probably thinking I’m here to mess things up more than I already have. His hand rests supportively on Ollie’s back. Then as Ollie and I lock gazes, he whispers, “Hiya, babycakes.”

This entire thing is making me want to cry, and that’s the pebble that breaks the dam, a tear sliding down my cheek. “Hi, Red.”

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