Page 93 of Where Happiness Begins

“Why? Didn’t you say you wanted the truth?”

I pull away, more and more, until my back is against the front door.

“Well, here it is. I never planned to fall for you. In fact, I tried my goddamn hardest not to thesecondI learned who you were. I hid, and I isolated, and I forced myself not to look at you or listen to your laugh. But, honey, you’re impossible not to love.”

I shake my head, another tear spilling as he walks closer, slowly, carefully. He’s ending me with each step, with each inhale.

“I can’t, Carter.” I’m not even sure what I’m saying no to at this point. I just know this has hurt too much, and I’ve borne too much pain in my life to voluntarily risk myself once more.

He pauses in his tracks, staring at me like I’m a wild animal, and I take the opportunity to do just what he fears.

I run.

Chapter 38

The leaves begin to turn from their deep green to bright orange and burgundy, and still, I remain in a limbo.

Even if I don’t see Carter, he’s right there, every second of every day. I can’t stop replaying the last words he said to me as if they’ve been branded onto each cell in my body. And I want to believe them, I do, but some part of me is holding back. The same part that told me our relationship could never survive if it became real.

Some local singer is performing on the scene of The Sparrow, strumming her guitar in a slow, sensuous rhythm while singing about loving someone for who they are, even the bad. I don’t look at her, focused on cleaning glasses I’ve probably already washed. I can’t bring myself to care about the music, or about the work, or even about my friends. Finn texted me a few times earlier, according to his name popping up on my screen, but I decided not to open my texts. I don’t have it in me to fake being all right, and I don’t want to worry him even more than he probably already is.

The public starts cheering as the song comes to an end, a moment I usually love, when the artists peek out into the crowd and you can see their pride, but I don’t even look up today. I feel like ahalf version of myself, and I don’t know when that storm hanging over my head will pass and I’ll be able to breathe again.

And then, there’s the part of me that doesn’t want to go back to the way I was before Carter either. I hadn’t realized how limited my life was until him. How I’d restrained myself to a version of life I thought had to be mine. Being with him made me want to do more, to experience more, and to be brave enough not only to wish, but to do. I’m not ready to let go of that person yet, even if she was built on an illusion of a relationship.

“Lil!”

I jump, almost dropping the glass I’ve been polishing all night, only to find Finn on the other side of the bar, looking at me with pinched lips.

“Where were you?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve called your name three times.”

“Oh.”

“And I’ve been texting you all day.” Finn leans in closer, elbows on the bar. “You doing okay?”

Just lie. Just say yes.

With my friend scanning me, though, I can’t. I also can’t acknowledge how terrible I still feel about the ending of such a short relationship. In other people’s eyes, it might sound like a fling, if that. But it was more. So much more. And even if I know he’s a damn good liar, I can’t help but feel like he was being truthful in some way the other day.

“Oh, Lil.”

I clench my jaw so it doesn’t start trembling yet again.Thatis why I didn’t open his texts. I can’t continue being this much of a mess all the time, and talking about Carter with Finn would lead to just that.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, praying this will lead to a change of mind. I’d be open to anything. Him wanting us to sign up for line dancing lessons. A talk on a newfound lactose intolerance.Anything.

“I have something for you.” He gives me a pointed look. “Which you would know if you looked at my texts.”

“What is it?” I ask, ignoring his prompt.

“You have a second?”

Finn’s never come to my workplace just to chat. I look around and find no one waiting to order. The bar is quiet tonight and most of our customers are focused on the show, so I can take a bit of time off. Leaving my rag on the countertop, I gesture for him to follow me out back, where I pass an employee-only door that leads out the back of the building. The music muffles as the door slams shut, leaving us in the stillness of the early October evening. I don’t have my coat with me, but the weather’s still mild, only a mild breeze ruffling the hair from my ponytail.

“What’s up?” I ask.

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