Page 25 of The Widower's Girlfriend
“What’s up, man?” We shake hands and bro-hug as he comes inside. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but has more muscle. We’ve worked out a few times together, but he’s a beast in the gym. I can’t keep up with him. I tried to get him to do meditation with me one time. He was equally bad at that. Despite our differences, he’s a great guy and I wouldn’t want anyone else as my agent.
“Dude. When was the last time you showered?” His face is twisted into a grimace.
I lift my arm and sniff, laughing when I realize I stink. “Um, not sure?”
He shakes his head at me and flops down on the couch. “Just like I thought. You’ve been pretty silent since everything went down and I figured you were wallowing. Time to get up, get cleaned up, and get on with your life. Go ahead. I’ll wait here for you.”
He waves me off, telling me what to do in my own house. “Hey. Go do whatever it is you do as an agent. I’m fine right here.” I flop down on the other end of the couch and slouch down, getting comfortable.
A giant sigh escapes before he leans toward me. “Okay, listen. There were a few small-minded people who don’t want you to ever be happy because that will shine a light on how unhappy they are. And they can’t handle that realization. So...what? You gonna let them influence what you do with your life? That’s lame, man. I can’t let you wuss out like that.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it. Yes, their comments bothered me, but more than that, Jemma hasn’t even tried to contact me. She doesn’t want to bother with all this just to date me. So this whole thing? It’s been for nothing.” That painful truth burns between my ribs. I’m hurt that Jemma doesn’t think I’m worth a little public disgruntlement.
Ash cranes his neck left then right, looking for what, I have no idea. Then he drills me with his gaze. “Where did my friend Walker go? Because this pathetic man in front of me isn’t him.”
Ouch.
“I don’t see you lifting a finger to go get your girl. Maybe she’s waiting for you to call her. Maybe she thinks you don’t thinkshe’sworth it. You want to be happy? Go out there and grab it with both hands and don’t let go! I’ll say it one last time. Get up. Get cleaned up. And then go prove to Jemma you’re worth it.”
He pops up and motions like he’s dropping the imaginary microphone before spinning and walking out of my house without another word.
I blink a few times, his words spinning through my head. Could he be right? Was I sitting back and letting life happen to me without making an effort to go get what I want? Because I’m pretty sure I want Jemma. Public approval or not.
I want to hear all about her day and her precious patients. I want to travel with her. I want to meditate with her on my balcony. I want to hold her hand and help her up when she inevitably stumbles over something. I want to share my tattered heart with her because I know she’ll take good care of it. I want to be the reason she laughs more and stands up for herself more. I want to know her completely.
I love her.
A waft of my own stink hits me when I jump up from the couch with my realization.
I have to go take a shower.
And then it’s time to plan out my grand gesture. Because it’s going to take a really big one to prove to Jemma that I love her.
I’m worth it. She’s worth it. We’re worth it.
16
Jemma
It’s funny how living on your own can feel so good for so long and then one day, a random interaction with a stranger can change all that. Ever since Walker swooped in and saved me from my suitcase, I crave the companionship that I only feel with him. And since he’s gone silent? I feel a loneliness I’ve never experienced before.
My house is cold and dreary with only my own mess to show someone even lives here. My job no longer feels fulfilling without someone to share it with. My mind keeps craving a trip to the beach, but I know it’s only so my heart can be near Walker.
I still check his social media accounts like a desperate woman, only to see no further posts from him, nor any ongoing nastiness from his following. And still, I haven’t heard from him. My decision to disappear from his life is confirmed the longer I don’t hear from him. Staying away is slowly killing me, but it’s looking to be the right choice for his career.
Friday morning I pull on the first scrubs my hands find and sweep my hair back into a messy ponytail. Makeup and flat irons, I decide, are for women who aren’t heartbroken. I skip my usual smoothie and stop by Java Point to see my friend Charlotte and grab breakfast.
The warm air blasts my face when I swing open the door to the coffee shop. I wait in line behind several men in suits on their way to work. I see Charlotte behind the huge machine churning out coffees that practically run this city. She catches my eye and winks. She knows my usual and will have it made by the time I get to the register to order and pay.
“Jemma, my love, how are you?” She slides my coffee and egg white sandwich to me across the counter and leans in to study me. Her accent is beautiful, though I can’t place where she’s from exactly and she’s never divulged. She’s a confusing blend of open and warm, mixed with secrets and deflection.
I shrug, the only answer I can muster at the moment.
Her eyes narrow and her gaze flicks over my straggly hair before she nods quickly. “Hold that question.” She spins around and whispers to the guy next to her in the signature Java Point blue apron. He nods back and she ducks under the counter to come over to me. “Why don’t we sit and chat on my break, huh?”
I let her pull me over to a small table in the back and slump in my chair. The first sip of the hot mocha she made for me permeates my funk.At least something in this life is sweet right now.
“Spill it, love.” Charlotte leans over the table and gives me that sweet smile of hers that makes you cough up all your secrets. I don’t know where she learned it, but I know its effectiveness firsthand.
