Page 77 of One Sweet Day I Found You

* * *

The day had beenan exercise in futility. Nick couldn’t get Courtney off his mind, no matter what he tried.

He steered his road bike off the street and peddled back into the lot of his apartment complex, noticing the usual evening hum of the crickets in the tall pines surrounding the buildings.

He’d already been tired after work, but his thoughts had still been running a mile a minute. He’d have gone stir crazy and been up all night if he hadn’t gone out and blown off some steam. Fifteen miles on his bicycle seemed to have done the trick. He felt a little better. But still, he couldn’t believe what he’d walked in on this morning.

What if he hadn’t decided to stop by her house this morning? Would he have ever found out?

He still couldn’t believe Courtney had done that. Things had seemed so great. How stupid he was. How blind. He swore under his breath.

With little daylight left, he rounded a corner in the large and inviting apartment complex. At least he was sufficiently exhausted now.

He pulled over, unclipped from the pedals, and stepped off, then carried the bike up the short flight of stairs to his door. A message buzzed on his phone in the pocket of his bicycle shorts.

Back inside the apartment, with the bike in its corner, he took off his helmet and cycling shoes then pulled out the phone and read the message. It was fromher.

I’m so, so sorry. I miss you. Please, let me explain.

He stared at the message for a few seconds. He’d done little all day but try to imagine what had brought this about. What had he done to send her into the arms of another guy? Or what had he not done? Why was she so restless that she’d go hooking up with someone else? Had he completely imagined a mutual interest between Courtney and himself?

Nick shook his head. Seriously, one little apology wasn’t going to cut it. He wasn’t going to run back into her arms, just so she could tear out his heart and stomp all over it again. No. Way.

He ignored the message, set the phone upside down, and went to the refrigerator. He produced a cold beer just as Tom came into the kitchen.

“Pass me one, would you?” Tom sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter. He took the cold, brown bottle from Nick and twisted the lid until it popped open and a cool mist escaped. “Thanks.” He threw back the bottle and took a long drink.

Nick grabbed one of his own and relocated to the living room, where he plopped down on the couch and put up his feet.

Tom had a keen sense for reading people and a knack for getting them to talk. His tactics were simple and they usually worked on Nick.

Tom spun away from the kitchen on the barstool to face the apartment’s living room. “So, what’s going on, dude? You’re acting weird again. Rough day?” He took another sip.

Nick scoffed. “How am I acting weird? I hardly said a word.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tom looked satisfied.

Nick grinned in spite of himself. “Okay, so yeah. Rough day.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?”

“Dude.” Nick gave him the leave-me-alone look. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

Tom wasn’t discouraged. He leaned back, keeping an eye on Nick. “Work?

“Nah.”

“Money?”

“Nah.”

“Your dad?”

“Nope.” Nick made a face.

“Women?”

Nick swallowed a swig of beer. He held up a finger and answered very matter-of-factly without looking at Tom. “That’s the one.”

---