I return to the gang with whiskey shots and an extra two for our victors, Allison and Remy, and we all drinktogether.
We laugh and joke around some before breaking off into chats around theplace.
It’s surreal being back in my real life again. Sad, in a way, because it makes what Jesse and I shared feel even more like it was all an incredibledream.
After Ty returned to my condo, even though I tried to stick around a little longer, tried to make it work and keep my cool around Jesse, the situation was too much forme.
It was so easy when it was just Jesse and me, but the awkwardness of having Ty around proved to be too overwhelming for my conscience, and after two days of uneasiness, I decided it would be best to returnhome.
I texted Jesse to let him know it wasn’t about him and that I needed to getaway.
He said he understood and that he looked forward to getting together with meagain.
I was totally serious that night at the restaurant when I said I wanted to see him again when he got back to Atlanta. But now, being back in my world in San Diego, my life feels so far removed from what happened back in Puerto Vallarta that I’m wondering if that’s actually going to happen. Is it something we said because we were caught up in the moment? Will he go back to his life and this new job and become so absorbed in that, he won’t have time for me? Or was he as serious as I was when he said he was interested inmore?
This string of thoughts, along with so many others, bombards mybrain.
As great as it is being here with my longtime friends again, I wish I could be spending the night withJesse.
I’m consumed with thoughts about him…us…as I try to replay the most delicious of the experiences that transpired in our timetogether.
As our crew splits off into smaller groups, I head to the bar and catch up with the bartender for some time until he gets busy with some other customers. I watch the screen behind the bar, which plays the news. I feel my phone vibrate. Is it Jesse? I’m about to dig my hand into my pocket to find out when Allison sits on the stool besideme.
“Your bottle’s looking a little empty,” she says, sliding another to me, which she must have ordered at one of the other bars, since she has a full bottle in her hand aswell.
She reaches back and pulls the band out of her hair, letting her dark locks fall around her face. She pulls the band up to her wrist. Sighing, she looks the way she has on nights when it’s been just the two of us at her place, sitting on the couch, chatting about how fucked up the world is and how we wished we could make it better. Of course, now that she has a job with the State Department in child death investigations, she can do just that, though the horrors of what she deals with on a day-to-day basis don’t always make her the most cheerful companion in theworld.
She takes a drink of her beer, and as she sets it back on the bar, says, “So you going to tell me what’s on your mind…or do I need to play a guessinggame?”
I laugh. She looks me up and down in that way shehas.
“What were you up to down in Puerto Vallarta? I have a feeling you had a little loveaffair.”
“What makes you saythat?”
I don’t need to ask. I’m certain of the answer. She knows me thatwell.
“You have that look about you,” she says with narrowed eyes, like she’s inspecting me, trying to read me the way Jesse might try to. “Before you left, you looked all stressed and like it was just work, work, work. Now you seemrefreshed.”
“Well, I was on vacation. Hitting the waves will dothat.”
There’s suspicion in her expression. Her lips pull together, and even in the dim light, I can see her skepticism. “Then why do you seem sodistracted?”
“You just said I seemedrefreshed.”
“You do. You look distractedlyrefreshed…”
“Those shots are getting to you, I think,” I say with a smile as I take a sip of mybeer.
She shakes her head. “I’m right, and you know it. I’ve seen you when you’re relaxed after vacation. This is something more. What’s his name? If you don’t tell me, I can askVanessa.”
“Well, if you ask Vanessa, she’ll tell you I accidentally booked at the same time that my son wasthere.”
“Oh. Well, I think it’s very inappropriate to be doing anything with a guy while your son’s around,” shesays.
“He had to go home for a little while,” I say, annoyed more than anything, and it takes me a moment to realize I’ve been had…that I objected to my son being around, not to messing around with aguy.
“See!” she exclaims. “You did have time for a little love affair afterall.”
