Page 68 of This Is Who I Am

“I know fear when I see it,” Devon says. “Fear and anxiety are what I have to deal with the most in my line of work.” She narrows her eyes but her gaze remains soft. “You’re scared, so you retreat. It’s a logical reaction, but what if you didn’t? What if you did the opposite and something beautiful could come from it?” She half-smiles. “It’s the irrefutable truth that you will never know unless you try.”

“Wow, you’ve really come here to deploy the full extent of your powers on me.”

“You deserve love too, Estelle,” Devon says and it sounds irrefutable as well when she says it like that—so much so that tears fill my eyes. “You already love Cass and she loves you. It’s pretty obvious to me.” She gives me the full-wattage smile now. “Just talk to her one more time, with an open mind and an open heart and try not to be scared. I know it’s easier said than done. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have a job, but, honestly, I truly believe you owe it to yourself to not run away from this.” She holds up her hand. “Don’t say you’ll think about it, because then you’ll just think your way out of it again. Just say yes, then go to her.”

“I appreciate everything you say, but you’re coming on a little strong.” A golden child like Devon—like she appears to be—has no clue what I’ve been through, despite her life coaching experience.

“I know, but I really need you to hear me.”

“Either way, I don’t want to disturb Cass until Savor is closed for the weekend.” I can’t believe I’m considering it already. “She must be exhausted.” If I do go through with this crazy plan, I prefer not to have that conversation with overly tired, grouchy Cass.

“Tell you what.” Devon’s smile has transformed into a grin. “A friend of Sadie’s is visiting this weekend. We’re having a little get-together with the boys on Sunday. Come to lunch at our place for some light relief and relaxation, then you and I can talk some more if needed, and then I’ll send you on your way to Cass, who will have had plenty of time to rest. How does that sound?”

“It sounds as though you’ve got it all worked out already.”

“I am usually a woman with a plan.” Devon finishes her coffee. “Do you have some more of this?”

“Sure.” I head into the kitchen, to that dreadful spot where I banished Cass from my life, and think that, maybe, sometimes it can’t hurt to take a friend’s advice.

CHAPTER33

CASS

It’s my first full weekend without Estelle and I don’t know what to do with myself. On Friday, I scoured the bookings, looking for reservations for one, hoping that she might have booked for the evening under an alias to not scare me off, but what’s become Estelle’s regular table was occupied by a couple in their twenties disgustingly in love, holding hands throughout their meal in a way that I would have thought lovely if Estelle hadn’t smashed my heart to smithereens—although I’m very much to blame as well.

I can hardly say our break-up was mutual, but I sure played my part in it. I’m not innocent and it makes it easier to accept because I know I fell short, but I miss her. So, on Saturday night, instead of sulking at home, staring at her favorite spot on the couch—now painfully empty—where she liked to curl up with her notebook and Gussie, I meet Hunter and Bobby for too many bottles of wine at The Bay.

They can be two nosy loudmouths but tonight they’re just excellent friends, giving me their shoulder to cry on, and drinking too much with me.

Once we’ve finished our second bottle, I want to order margaritas, but Hunter puts his foot down.

“I have to be up early tomorrow for Finn,” he says. Bobby lost the power of speech a while ago. For such a big man, he’s a real lightweight. He doesn’t have the same wine drinking practice Hunter and I have developed over the years.

“Shall we walk you home?” Hunter offers.

But I don’t want to go home. Only August misses me now and I love my cat dearly, but all I have to look forward to in my bed tonight is, most likely, another bout of night sweats. Excessive alcohol consumption hardly helps matters, I’m well aware, but it’s the only thing that works against the gnawing pain in my soul.

I hug them goodbye and order a margarita for myself. The bartender also refills my water glass.

I’m halfway down my margarita when a woman I’ve never seen before sits on the stool next to mine.

“You look like you’re drowning your sorrows,” she says. Her voice is high-pitched but still smooth and she’s so petite, I’m probably twice her size.

“Fuck yeah,” I say. We’re two strangers in a bar close to midnight so there’s no need for decorum.

She orders two more margaritas, one for her and one for me. Then introduces herself as Bijou from Los Angeles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“Nah, it’s just a broken heart. It will mend, won’t it?”

“That’s what hearts always do,” Bijou says. “Guaranteed.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I take in her face more thoroughly. She looks very sweet and girly and, in many ways, the very opposite of Estelle. Her hair is pulled back tightly and her eyes are pale blue. Her smile is warm and friendly. My friends have left and I can do with some more warmth and friendliness.

She lifts her glass to mine carefully so as not to spill any of the liquid, then, with her eyes on me, she takes a sip.

“Excellent tartness,” Bijou says, sliding her elbows a little closer toward me.

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