Page 87 of Last Love

Still don’t know what the fuck to make of all that.

Rather than answering, I simply smile and fall into the old habit of stuffing food in my mouth to avoid spewing words.

“It’s been months since we’ve had any actual communication, Presley.”

Yup.

It turns out that I am still quite the master of running away from my problems.

To. This. Very. Fucking. Day.

“Did you do anything special for your birthday?” Xander inquires at the same time he reaches for a chip.

“Pretty low key. Took the day off. Had a little family get together.”

“Odd.” He has a bite of the tortilla treat. “You and Katherine didn’t do something?”

“No, she’s out of town for work again, but she did book us a couple’s getaway at Martha’s Vineyard for next month.”

“Couples?”

The waitress delivers our drinks just in time to help the difficult subject.

I immediately lift my glass while he repeats the question, heartbreak undeniably in pumping through his voice. “As in…as in you’re seeing someone?”

Ice cold lime flavor soothes my senses but unfortunately not long enough. Putting down the glass is followed by me releasing a calming breath and replying. “I am.”

He loosens his tie prior to investigating, “Is it serious?”

“Very.”

More sorrow slides into his expression prompting me to stuff more chips into my mouth. “Was this person the reason we didn’t work out?”

Oh.

Oh….

How the fuck do I answer that?

“We didn’t work out, Xander, because we weren’t right for each other.”

Confusion cloaks his face. “We were perfect for each other.”

“Except we weren’t,” I swiftly argue.

“How can you say that?”

“Because there’s a difference between being comfortable and being right.” Instead of leaving room for him to argue, which it is evident he’s ready to do, I decide it would be better to demonstrate. “Do you like hockey?”

“What?”

“Do you like hockey?” my casual repeating is accompanied by me dipping a chip in the salsa. “It’s a simple question.”

“It’s a strange question.”

“Just answer it.”

He reaches for his glass at the same time he shakes his head. “No. To be honest, I find the sport rather grotesque.”

“I fucking love it.”

Xander stops mid-sip. “What?”

“Yeah. The violence. The blood. The brutality. The fact its like war on ice.” An overdramatic swoon escapes. “Hands down my favorite sport.”

“I didn’t even know you liked sports.”

“It’s something new for me,” I warmly gush. “And you know else I like? Goat cheese.”

“You used to hate goat cheese.”

“No,” my voice delicately denies, “you hate goat cheese; therefore, you believed I hated goat cheese. You wanna know what I hate? American Revolution documentaries.”

Bafflement bursts into his expression.

“And tennis.”

It deepens.

“And herbal tea.”

“You’re full of shit,” he finally bites back. “You love herbal tea.”

“Ohmygod, I would rather scarf down three-day old black coffee than force myself to drink another cup of that shit.”

His jaw drops to the table.

“See, this is what I mean when I say there’s a difference between being comfortable versus being right for one another.”

This time the statement seems to sink in a little more.

“Xander, I lost a lot of myself during our time together…,” my honest confession has me forcing myself to stop hiding behind food to proceed. “And in the time that we’ve been apart, I have put in so much work to figuring out who I am. What I like. Where I wanna be and go. I’ve done some heavy-duty soul searching, and I think you need to do the same. Once you do, you’ll not only realize what we had wasn’t love so much as mutual convenience, you also might discover that climbing corporate ladders isn’t the key to happiness. Being truly happy is the key to happiness.”

“And you’re happy, Presley? Really happy?”

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