CHAPTER EIGHT
“I swear you just walked by me,” Love said as I held the phone to my ear.
I chuckled as I rushed to keep up with Grayson, who had now gained a lead since I’d stopped to answer my phone. “What makes you think that?”
“I’m sitting outside a coffee shop in the Back Bay, sipping an espresso, and this guy passes my table. He has a heavy amount of scruff on his cheeks, strong jawline, sharp nose. Just like you. We catch eyes at the very beginning, you know, when he approaches the start of the sitting area. It can’t be more than ten or twelve paces long, and the whole time he gives me this soft grin. The kind that spreads across your face when you know something about someone, but you don’t want to let on. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes.”
“He continued to look at me that way during those ten paces, holding my gaze until he was gone.”
A weird, unexplained, unfamiliar pang hit my chest.
A feeling that came out of nowhere.
I’d never been jealous of another man ... until now.
“And then what happened?” I asked, turning at the stop sign, where I followed Grayson down a packed sidewalk, my height an advantage that allowed me to weave to the spots where the congestion thinned.
“He kept walking.”
“You didn’t stop him?”
“No.”
“So you let him walk right by, never knowing if that was me or not, living with a lifetime of regret.”
There was silence, and then finally: “Was it you?”
“No.”
“Then I have no regret.” It was too loud to be sure, but I swore she sighed.
That sound, that response ... it didn’t solve the issue that Love would have let me walk by without stopping me. The need to potentially meet me with my mask off, spend unplanned time with me, hadn’t been strong enough to send her to her feet.
A thought—a realization—that really made me ache.
Before I could reply, she said, “Wherever you are, it sounds busy.”
I dodged a group of tourists holding their phones on selfie sticks. “I’m in San Francisco for work.”
“Of course you are. The day after I fly home, you’re gone.”
Grayson and I had come out here to meet a team of coders. We needed to hire at least one more, possibly two, and since we were in Silicon Valley, we’d signed up to take a class. Not that either of us had any intention of coding, but we needed to learn the basics and at least speak the language.
I wanted to address what was bothering me, so I asked, “Can I admit something to you?”
“Please.”
I moved back onto the sidewalk, Grayson now a few people ahead of me. With all the noise, there was no way he’d hear me, though I didn’t care if he did. The guys were now well versed in all things that involved Love, and despite Grayson giving me endless shit about it, I’d stopped listening.
“I wish it had been me who had walked by your table. Except I wouldn’t have kept walking. I would have gone inside the coffee shop and ordered you another espresso, first learning how you take it—with creamer, without, with sweetener, or black. That way, I’d never have to ask you again. Once I had the drink in my hand, I would have returned to your table and taken a seat next to you. And then ...”
“And then?”
I stopped along the side of a store, rested my back against the building, and closed my eyes. “I’d lean into your ear, and the first thing I’d say is your real name.”
“Ohhh.Something you don’t have. Does that mean you want it?”