Page 75 of One Sweet Day I Found You

Twenty

Courtney sat up on the couch and looked around. It was still light out. Her head ached like she’d been hit by a truck. She reached for her glass of water on the coffee table and checked the time on her phone. Just about four o’clock.

Was I out that long?The marketing piece about the Fourth of July was expected to be live in two hours, but it still wasn’t ready. She sat up.

Shaking off the sleep, she rose and made her way down the hall. A glance in the bathroom mirror proved a bad idea. Her eyes were red and swollen, much worse than when she’d gotten up this morning. She threw some cold water on her face and ran a brush through her hair.

Austin had left this morning after a slew of apologies, hugs, and a short pep talk. “He’ll come around, Court. I hope this guy won’t be as stupid as I was. Can I talk to him for you?”

Courtney shook her head.

“Okay. But, I mean—nothing really happened.Tellhim that,” he’d said. “Any good dude wouldn’t let his girl go over something like this. He just needs the whole story. And, hey, little tip—guys do better when you give them time to cool off. I wouldn’t push it for a few days.”

Courtney was still in shock. “Okay. Thanks.”

The guilt.

The regret.

It was all overwhelming.

She didn’t think it was going to be as easy as Austin made it sound, even though she agreed with him.

Nick wasn’t going to take this so lightly.

Still, it was good to have worked things out with Austin. She’d thanked him and they’d hugged out a good-bye and wished each other well.

The irony was almost too thick to bear, though. She was finally—really, finally—over her ex-boyfriend, which meant she was ready, truly, to love someone new. But in getting to that point, she had sacrificed that new person. She had lost him.

She had lost Nick.

She stared straight across the cottage living room at nothing.

Tears threatened to well up. Again. She wiped away a stray one and took a deep breath.

After Austin left, and after a long crying jag this morning, she’d pulled herself together and planted herself in a chair, determined not to let the situation distract her from her work.

She’d put aside her tangled mess of emotions and knocked out a lot more of the article. But about two hours ago, her eyelids had fluttered, the couch had beckoned, and she’d decided to take a short break. That must’ve been when she’d fallen asleep.

Just then, her phone trilled and she checked the screen. Mom—oh, right. Courtney was supposed to call her today. But her mother was the last person who needed to hear her sounding like this. Plus, she was running out of time to finish the article. She sniffled and declined the call then punched out a text.

I’m on deadline. Less than two hours left. I’ll call you tomorrow? So sorry. Heart emoji.

Her mother texted back.

No problem, sweetie, Good luck. TTYS.

Courtney sent a smiley and sat back down in front of her laptop. She wasn’t going to tell her mother about what happened with Nick, at least not while it was still a fresh wound. She didn’t need judgment or scolding. She had only recently told her mother about him at all.

She went to the kitchen and pulled out a single-serving chocolate protein shake from the refrigerator and took a sip. She couldn’t imagine eating actual food right now. Her stomach always tied itself in knots when she was really upset. But she was beginning to feel weak from the lack of anything all day besides a few cups of coffee.

She finished the shake and felt revived, at least physically, then threw back a dose of ibuprofen and rubbed her aching temples.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, she hit publish on the screen and her Heritage Bay Fourth of July celebration piece went to Beecham’s office for final proofing. With a sigh of relief, she closed the program and went to check her email. Beecham’s assistant, Josh would make it live once approved.

Courtney scrolled down, deleting a slew of junk mail and spam. Then she saw it. Nick had emailed. Her pulse quickened. He’d reached out already. Was he ready to talk?

She opened it, her heart pounding.

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