Page 30 of If You Never Come Back
He wraps his arm around me once more, and I settle against his barrel chest. “Aww, cuz, did I make you laugh? After a full week of crying and drinking? I’d say I deserve a trophy for that.”
This time, a string of proper chuckles falls from me.
“Well, that one sounded a bit snotty, but I’ll take it.”
I breathe. “I’ve gone through breakups before, Remy. This one hit hard though…”
I stop myself before I say the “L” word.
“That’s because you love him. Love makes everything better—and worse. The pain of losing someone you love is unbearable.”
I glance up at him, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my hoodie. “How do you get through it?”
“Baby steps. One day at a time.”
“Are you just going to parrot self-help phrases at me now?”
“You’re getting your feistiness back. That’s promising.” He laughs. “How about helping me at the bar tonight?”
I groan. “Remy, I don’t know if I have it in me to deal with other human beings right now.”
“Just try it. If after an hour you can’t stand it, you can go home. But you need to make yourself do normal, everyday things, even if it hurts. It’s the best way to feel like yourself again.”
He’s right. When I stop thinking about Wes, there’s a sudden burst of hope. It hits right at the center of my chest, cutting through the pain. It’s tiny and fleeting, but it’s there. For the first time in days, I don’t feel like collapsing and sobbing on the floor. I don’t feel good—not by a long shot—but with Remy’s help, I feel better. I feel human again. And that’s something.
“We’ll even do a shot of tequila to kick things off if you want,” he says.
I glare at him, shaking my head. “No. No more tequila. Ever.”
Remy shoots a confused frown at me. “Excuse me, but I’m the one who turned you on to the good stuff. I gave you that decent stuff when you started your website—”
I hold up my hand. “Tequila was mine and Wes’s drink.”
This time when he glances at the empty tequila bottles scattering my living room, a look of recognition flashes across his face. I have to move on now, just like Remy said. That means not touching tequila for the foreseeable future.
I sniffle. “If I have any hope of getting over him, I can’t…”
Remy nods once. “Enough said.” He gives me a light tap on my back. “Now get yourself in that shower and scrub like you’ve never scrubbed before.”
Chapter Ten
Ituck an order form in the envelope and seal it, then check the clock. “Damn it.”
The post office is closing in twenty minutes. I’ll never make it.
The momentary frustration melts away and all I feel is exhaustion—but for the best possible reason. My business is picking up. Every day I’m painting, sketching, creating.
One month post-breakup, and I’m surviving. I catch my reflection in the window and run my fingers through my newly short hair. This shoulder-length bob has been difficult to get used to, but it was a needed change. I needed to shed the long hair that Wes loved so much. Every time I brushed it, braided it, ran my fingers through it, I ached. So I said goodbye to thirteen inches and donated it. Through the reflection, I give myself a soft smile. I have to admit that I wear this new style well.
That first night back at Dandy Lime wasn’t easy, but Remy was right. It was necessary. It showed me I could go through the motions of daily life even through the pain. And that’s what I do, night after night, day after day. I shower, get dressed, put on makeup, eat, and work during the day. At night, I run the bar with Remy. I’m so exhausted by the end of the evening that I don’t have time to wallow.
I’m not completely out of the woods, though. Every week it gets easier, but it’s not without its dark moments. Last week a guy walked into Dandy Lime wearing the exact same red and black flannel shirt Wes wore the night we met, and I froze. I should have suspected it. It’s September—autumn—and that means everyone will be wearing flannel. But all I could do was stare at the stranger, then excuse myself to the back room where I had to calm myself with deep breaths and a hushed pep talk.
It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Just breathe.
Crazy how a random piece of fabric has the ability to destroy weeks of progress. But I deep-breathed my way through the setback and worked the rest of the night.
I am fine. Iwillbe fine.
