Page 52 of Hello Handsome
He shook his head, reaching for the ketchup. “How did you like the bar the other night?”
My eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you noticed me with your face so... occupied.”
He smirked. “I’m a man of many talents.”
It was hard not to smile at him. “It’s not my usual scene, but I had a good time.”
“Good,” he said before digging into his food.
I walked away thinking of that night with a small smile on my lips. The first part of the evening had been unpleasant, getting stood up and then sitting alone while men passed me over for younger, thinner women. But then a man named Jameson came over and asked to buy me a drink.
We talked, we flirted, we danced, and at the end of the night, he gave me a hungry kiss by my car that had me wanting more. But my mother always said not to go too far on the first date, and honestly, I wasn’t ready to give that part of me so soon after what happened with Gray, so I offered him my number instead.
Jameson hadn’t called in the two days since I’d met him, but I reminded myself that wasn’t the point of my night out. Going to the bar hadn’t been about finding “the one.” It was about putting myself out there after years of holding myself back, first for my children and then in the hopes Gray and I could finally be together.
But now, neither of those things could be my excuse.
I wanted to move on–needed to move on.
I just didn’t know if I could.
34
GRAY
I’m lookingat the ceiling. My body feels weak. And deep down, I know I don’t have much time left.
When I roll my head to the side, I see a number of cords and tubes extending from my body to beeping machines situated around the room. And that’s when I notice her.
Maya.
She’s beautiful, young. There’s extra fat in her cheeks and arms, and my heart swells, so glad she’s not skin and bones anymore. Her dark hair flows over her face as her chin rests in her hand. She’s looking out our window with a view of the countryside surrounding our home.
“Maya?” I breathe. Even though my body doesn’t move, I feel light at her presence.
She looks over at me, dark eyes just as familiar as my own. But instead of being happy to see me, there’s a deep sadness in her gaze. “Oh, Gray,” she breathes.
My throat feels tight as I take her in. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Her hand wipes over my forehead, brushing back my short hair.
And it strikes me that I’m dying.
“What do you think of your life?” she asks me.
Tears fall down my cheeks, into my hair and ears. “I’ve spent so much time missing you, I didn’t appreciate what I have.” The pain spreads, from my eyes and throat down to my chest until it’s like a wet blanket, smothering me with the weight of it.
“I’ve wasted it,” I choke out, frozen to the bed.
She bends down and kisses my forehead.
One of the machines beeps louder, faster, and she’s pulled away.
My eyes blink open, and I’m still in my room. But all the machines are gone.
My throat is tight, and my eyes are damp with tears, skin slick with sweat.
Maya was in my dreams, but what stuck with me even more than her sad eyes was the realization:I’ve wasted it.
