Page 99 of Simmer Down
I zero in on the door to his condo. Slowly, I peel my hands off the steering wheel and reach for my car door handle.
Just then his condo door opens. Out walks a stunning redhead. My hand freezes on the handle of my door, and my heart seizes in my chest. He follows closely behind, the grin on his face just as wide as hers.
This time when I try to breathe, the air lodges in my throat, like I’m choking on a piece of cement. It’s like I’m paralyzed, unable to cry or scream, even though my body aches to do both. But all I can do is gawk with unblinking, unbelieving eyes at the scene in front of me.
Halfway to his car, she stops to show him something on her phone. A warm breeze swoops up her fiery locks. She looks like abeauty queen with her porcelain skin, those delicate facial features, and killer curves. The kind of woman both men and women stop dead in their tracks to stare at because you wouldn’t believe a human being could look so beautiful unless you saw it with your own eyes.
I stare not in envy, but in utter sadness. Because the sight of this gorgeous woman means one thing: I’m too late.
The two stand close to each other, close enough to let me know that this isn’t a friend. No matter what Finn thinks about Callum’s feelings for me, this is someone special.
Seconds later, the two throw their heads back in laughter. A funny video or text message, I presume. They stand and chat, still smiling, still laughing. And I watch it all, slinking low in my seat, like an obsessed stalker who can’t believe her eyes.
But I have to believe it. Because it’s true.
Callum is off the market. It wouldn’t matter if I ran up and kissed him, then told him I loved him. He’s no longer available. He’s with her now because I was too much of a closed-off jerk to recognize what I could have had when he offered it to me.
And because of that, he will never, ever be mine.
He leads her with his hand on the small of her back to the car and opens the door for her. I wait until they’re both in before I peel out on the road, speeding away in a cloud of burnt rubber. The toxic stench assaults my nostrils every time I take a breath, but I don’t care. I just need to get the hell away from here as fast as I can.
I try to swallow back the sob at the back of my throat. Hot tears crowd my eyes until I can’t hold them back any longer. I blink, and it’s like a dam breaking.
It’s not like there’s anyone watching me. I’m alone in the car, speeding to nowhere in particular, and now there’s a rock in my stomach. It’s regret and sadness balled into one. And it’s all my fault.
A million what-ifs fly through my mind.
What if I hadn’t been so stubborn?
What if I hadn’t been so closed off?
What if I had just let my guard down and taken a risk?
I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand. It’s not like poring over these doubts does any good now.
I stare at the road ahead through my blurry vision. Crying won’t solve anything, I know that. But somehow I need to leach out this pain, this frustration, this sorrow. The rock in my stomach is now a boulder. Inside, I scold myself for not consuming anything this morning except for some crappy French herbal tea I found at the back of the pantry.
A minute later the boulder burns. Grief and regret have a funny effect on my GI system, because I’m suddenly nauseous. Christ on a stick, I’m going to be sick. Great. That’s just what I need after watching the man I love pair up with someone new from fifteen feet away.
When the acid in my stomach curdles, I have to swallow back a heave. I’ve got seconds before vomiting. Yanking on the steering wheel, I pull to the side of the road and open my car door just in time to puke that French herbal tea onto the concrete.
Chapter 23
Are we good, Nikki?” Penelope asks from the back of the food truck.
It’s the end of another busy day at Makena Road, and both Penelope and I are ready to head home.
“I think so,” I say.
We step out of the food truck, and I hand her the keys. “Thank you again for helping out today. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
Penelope scrunches her face and waves her hand. “Oh, please. It was my pleasure. All those times I begged you to let me work the truck and you finally caved. I had a great time.”
She smiles, not an ounce of fatigue apparent in her cheery expression or sparkling blue eyes even though we just pulled a ten-hour shift. I pull her in for a bear hug. She saved my skin today when Mrs. Tokushige’s nephew called in sick. It was Mom’s day off, and I dreaded asking her to fill in at the last minute, even though I know she happily would have.
Penelope and I break apart, but she keeps hold of my arms.“Anytime you need an extra hand, call me. My schedule is flexible, and I love working here.”
I chuckle. “You’ve only done it once so far.”
