As does a walk on the beach by myself.
Disgusted, I shove my feet into my sneakers and pull a sweatshirt on over my tank top and leggings and shove open the front door. I need to be around people.
The last week and a half has sucked.
I haven’t seen Grayson. Not one time. Not even a ‘oh-hey-look-at-us-bumping-into-each-other’. I had just, I don’t know, assumed that would happen. It’s a small town. I work in the baby gym underneath Grayson’s freaking apartment. I get coffee where he does. I have the same friends as him. But nope. Not one glimpse of him or Evelyn.
It’s been so frustrating that I would have even welcomed running into Kyle, the night nanny, just to confirm that Grayson is still alive.
James, who I have seen but just briefly at the gym, finally told me that Grayson is in New York taking care of some business.
It was a punch to the gut. He took Jane, the day nanny, with him. Instead of me.
Because he loves me.
How ironic is that?
Who tells someone they’re in love with them and then breaks up with them in the next breath?
Grayson, that’s who.
As I run down the porch steps, my heart squeezes at the thought of him. He’s grumpy and infuriating…and warm and loving and unintentionally funny and wears a suit like nobody’s business and is fiercely protective of his daughter.
I understand he’s just trying to protect Evelyn by not continuing our foursome. And himself, too.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I hate it.
Like I hate my packed bag and the thought of leaving Fiona and Frannie.
Then there’s James.
And Cas.
I hate the thought of leaving them even more than the girls.
And not because of the sex—though the sex was mind blowing—but because they’re my best friends. My lovers. The ones who get me. Who love me.
Which means more than casual friends with benefits, and I should have realized that. Plus, I adore their son and Grayson’s daughter. Jesus, we were blurring lines all over the place and not even noticing it because we were having so much fuckingfun.
I miss that. So damn much.
I’m walking like I’m making a video advertising the benefits of speed walking and I don’t even know why. I have no destination in mind. I just couldn’t look at my offensive suitcase for another second. I shouldn’t get a coffee. I’m too keyed up as it is. The twins are at work and I don’t dare go into Raw and cry all over the pastries again.
I just head down the street because it feels like I can power walk my feelings away.
Because I’m starting to doubt that leaving Honeysuckle Harbor will actually make me happy.
I’m suspecting it might make me really fucking miserable, to be honest.
“Good morning, Caroline.”
“Hello there, Caro.”
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
The trio of men who play chess outside the coffee shop all greet me. I pause and put my hands on my hips, catching my breath. I’m trying to be polite, but I’m also repeatedly craning my neck to see if I can see James in the gym. I need a James hug.
