Page 106 of A Not So Merry Rescue
Alcohol isn’t working.
Going out to the bar to pick up a woman isn’t working. Wouldn’t you know the first woman I talked to was named AJ? Yeah, because that’s not a sign or anything.
Getting myself off a few times a day is only making my hand chafed.
Nothing is helping. Not even a little.
I refuse to disturb her, though I’m now following all her social media pages.
Stalking. I’m stalking her. It’s mostly stuff about her books, no personal life updates, but it’s something. If memory serves, she might not even write the posts, but my wounded heart doesn’t care. It needs a Willa fix and if this is the only way to get it, then so be it.
The decorations are down, and now Main Street looks pitiful. It happens every year when the lights disappear, but this yearhits harder. Between watching them dismantle my design and sharing the holiday with Willa, they might have well cut off a limb with how much life sucks right now.
Did I mention I’m dramatic when I’m sad? This is why I don’t do sad. I’m pathetic.
“Call her.” That’s Autumn’s advice. “Stop being a miserable fuck. Grow a pair of balls, tell her you miss her, and go see her.”
“Ha. Like it’s that easy.”
The comment earns me a harsh stare.
When she left, it was understood we were cutting ties. I won’t be the one to break the unspoken vow.
“Then at least be a miserable fuck at your own house.”
She earns a finger, but ten minutes later, I walk home. I hoped the frigid air might take away some of the miserableness, but alas, it does not.
There’s no place in my cabin that doesn’t hold a recollection of Willa, which makes it hard to be home, too. Work isn’t tainted with her memory, and neither is the cabin’s garage, so I spend a lot of my time in those two places. Even when I should sleep, I’m out in the garage, tinkering on the car. Restoring my granddad’s Mustang is a passion project Dax and I have been working on for years. Whether it’s tracking down the right parts or trying my hand at rebuilding the engine, it’s consumed many hours of my life. Last night I thought it would be wise to sleep out there, hoping I could get rest. I’m not planning on that again. The cement floor is way too unforgiving on my back.
“Have you showered today?” Heidi wonders, stirring something on the stove. She’s got her hand on her stomach like I’ve seen pregnant women with a belly do. It’s weird because she’s not showing at all.
“Does last night count?”
She studies me, looking for a clue or something. “If it’s true.”
I flip through the last few days. “It was last night or the night before. Can’t be one hundred percent certain.”
“I could understand your behavior if she broke your heart.”
“She did,” I exclaim, meaning it. My heart cracked in the parking lot of the tavern. Even gorilla glue can’t mend this tear.
“It was a week. You went out with Luna for years and carried on like business as usual when she up and moved across the country, leaving you for another man.”
“I didn’t love her.”
If I had given prior thought to what I was saying, I wouldn’t admit that. But can’t take it back now.
Heidi’s brow raises, but that’s her only reaction. If she’s surprised by my comment, she hides it. “I repeat. A week. You can’t fall in love with someone that fast.”
“You can when she’s Willa. Besides, love at first sight is a real thing. Lenny, back me up.”
“Hated Heidi’s guts when I met her.” He laughs, cut off by his wife’s glare.
“Dad knows. Ask him. He’ll tell you it’s a thing.” I sound like I’m nine, arguing with her about the best way to string lights.
Heidi contemplates my statement. It will be hard to refute. We’ve memorized the story of how Mom and Dad met in high school when Dad’s family moved to Winterberry. Mom’s family practically founded the town, and Dad wanted to make a name for himself here while trying to impress her. To do so, he entered the town’s holiday lights contest. It was the first year a transplant to the town had won. Mom’s been smitten ever since. As she tells it, it wasn’t so much the win as his tenacity to design something majestic enough to dazzle the judges.
“What makes you so sure it’s love?” she asks.
