Meghan looked at my cart, any nerves transforming into a smug smile as she spotted the lettuce and avocado I’d already picked out.
“Taco night? Wow, some things really never change,” she said.
A hand squeezed my bicep.
“Actually, we’re trying Indian fusion tonight. Something new,” Hazel said in a bright voice.
Meghan’s gaze shifted to her as if just noticing her for the first time.
“Really?” she said, jutting out her lip. “That doesn’t sound like Reid.” Even though her gaze didn’t visibly drift, I could tell she was sizing Hazel up.
Hazel was only a few years younger than Meghan, but she had that effortless, youthful glow about her, her hair flowing free, cheeks dewy, wrapped in one of the oversized sweaters she practically lived in—she looked relaxed, unbothered, and completely herself.
My eyes met Hazel’s and I hoped they conveyed myappreciation. She had covered for me. I didn’t want Meghan to believe she knew me as well as she thought she did. I wanted her to know the things she’d said about me during the breakup weren’t true.
Even though she’d been right. Iwasuptight and stiff.
And I was attempting to force taco night, yet again.
“Huh,” Hazel said, brow furrowed. “That’s interesting. It was his idea—always trying something new, this one. You should see some of the stuff he just picked out at the thrift store. It’s going to be fun giving his house a little makeover.”
I bit my lip trying not to laugh. I wanted to hug Hazel right then. She had a way of taking a moment that should’ve felt small and heavy, and flipping it on its head. One second, I was bracing myself for the awkward tension of running into my ex for the first time since we’d swapped the last of our stuff. The next, I was simply standing in a grocery store, grabbing ingredients with Hazel, excited about teaching her how to cook. I didn’t give a fuck who else was there.
And just like that, I realized what moving on really felt like.
It felt likethis.
Like not caring.
Meghan’s mouth hung open for a second before she snapped it shut. “T-thrift store?” she whispered in confusion, the words barely audible.
Then we were all just standing there, both with our carts, not quite sure how to extricate ourselves from this painful social interaction.
“Man, it’s good to meet you,” the boyfriend said, huge smile glued to his face. “I’ll break the uncomfortable tension in the room. Always weird to run into exes. I’m Bernard, by the way.” He gave a small wave.
Hazel laughed. “I’m Hazel.” The way Hazel said it clearly implied that she and I were more than friends—and I didn’t bother correcting her. Not because I wanted Meghan to feel jealous—she wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t want her to—and notbecause her surprised expression gave me any kind of petty satisfaction. It didn’t. I honestly didn’t care about any of that.
Whatdidcatch me off guard was how good the idea felt of introducing Hazel as something more. Before I could stop it, a fantasy had started playing out in my mind. One where running to the grocery store together was a typical weekend activity.
Meghan laughed and rocked back and forth on her heels. It was strange seeing her in such a normal place. Somewhere I ran errands. We’d been in this same aisle together many times before, except in that alternate timeline, we were pushing the same cart in a comfortable silence. It was hard to remember that version of myself. The one who thought I’d soon be starting a family of my own. Who thought I’d settled into my routine life. Back before Meghan had changed the rules of the game.
“Well,” Meghan finally said, lips tight. “It was good to see you.”
“You too,” I said, and that was that.
We parted ways.
Except we were both shopping in the same goddamn grocery store, so the rest of the trip involved Hazel and me awkwardly bumping into them in nearly every freaking aisle we went down.
“Kill me,” I muttered after we’d picked out the rest of our produce and spotted them ten feet away at the butcher.
“I’d say we should give up and abandon the cart, but we can’t let them know they’re getting to us,” Hazel said through the smile pasted on her face. Out of nowhere, she burst into a loud fit of laughter, pointing at a random sale sign for a salmon fillet.
I jerked back. “What was that for?”
“Laugh,” she hissed. “We need to make it look like we’re having fun.” She tossed the ground turkey into the cart.
I chuckled, shaking my head at her ridiculousness. “Iamhaving fun. With you.” I added the last part in case it wasn’t obvious. Hazel was the only thing making today enjoyable.
