Page 19 of The One for Me
“You told him?”
She nods. “I told him before you got back, actually. We broke up then.”
“Fuck.” I groan. “I should’ve . . .”
“Should’ve what?”
There’s no way I’m going to answer that because I don’t know what I should’ve done, really. If it never happened, she’d still be with him, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not happy this is the outcome.
For weeks, I’ve tried to convince myself that we’d be stupid to attempt a relationship. I’m still not sure it’s smart, but each time I talk myself out of it, I’m right back here—in front of her.
I came here now because I needed her. Standing with my brothers at the grave the other day, listening to them tell my mother about their lives, I felt hollow. There was nothing to tell her.
Declan, the one who was the most steadfast about avoiding marriage, kids, and roots in Sugarloaf bought a fucking farm and has started his family. Connor, who probably had it the worst and had the hardest time coming back here, is married and his wife is about to have another baby.
There I was. Kid-less, wife-less, and feeling as though I was floundering, which makes no sense. I’m the one who has it all.
I have the career that every kid dreams of.
A ridiculous penthouse apartment.
A car that other men drool over.
But all of that felt inconsequential as they told her of their treasures.
Now, I’m here, looking at her, wondering if I’ve had something for all these years that’s infinitely more valuable and was just unable to see it.
“I don’t know, apologized to him at least.”
“He wasn’t angry,” she says, her voice low. “He wasn’t even surprised.”
Well, I sure as fuck am. “He wasn’t?”
“No, Oliver took it graciously, far more than he should’ve been, and then he let me go.”
I take a step closer. “And how are you taking it all?”
Her brown eyes meet mine, searching, probing deep inside me until my skin feels taut. “I’m fine. I’m sad because Oliver truly did love me, and I hurt him.”
She hasn’t once told me that she loved him beyond reason, though. I could—and want to—call her out on it, but that wouldn’t help this conversation. I owe Oliver a lot more than an apology. He was my friend as well, even if it was only because he was dating Devney, but still. He trusted me, and I broke that.
“So, why is he leaving for Wyoming?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because I’m here, and he thinks . . .”
Devney shrugs and moves over to the rocking chair. “Yeah, I guess he doesn’t want to watch what will never happen between us.”
I don’t miss the emphasis on the wordnever. “Right.”
She sits and starts to move back and forth as I sit beside her. After a few seconds of amiable silence, she reaches over and takes my hand. We’ve always been affectionate, but this time, it feels different, more intimate, more like a couple. “Why did you come over? Was it the visit to your mother’s grave?”
How she knows me so well. “Yes.”
“You haven’t gone since you buried your father, have you?”
Shame fills me. The loss of my mother was hard on all of us. I can’t say that one of my brothers took it worse or better. We all grieved. We all felt the absence of her and it tore us apart. Elizabeth Arrowood was the most beautiful and perfect woman alive.
