Hopefully that would soon be a thing of the past. Another text was from his Realtor. A two-bedroom condo with a view of the water had just come on the market in the building near Lake Pontchartrain that Bryson had set his sights on.
He shot her a quick text back.
Interested. Set up a tour asap.
He was tempted to tell her to put in an offer, but if he planned to make this his permanent home, he couldn’t be hasty about it. Regardless of the current, highly competitive real estate market his Realtor continually reminded him that they were in.
The rest of the texts were from the group chat with the vets at his old practice in Raleigh. There was no reason for him to still be in a chat that discussed the day-to-day workings of a place where he was no longer employed, yet every time he made an attempt to leave it, he held back.
Bryson stared at the phone. He’d just told his Realtor he wanted to tour a condo but couldn’t let go of a group chat? Either he accepted that he lived here now, or he didn’t.
He started typing. Stopped. Then started again.
Sorry to be that guy, but I’m going to remove myself from the group text.
A flurry of “sorry to see you go” and “miss you” and “trying to lure you back” texts came through.
He smiled, but finally went through with removing himself from the text.
“That wasn’t so hard,” he said.
Now, if only he could figure out how to deal with the other issue he was having, all would be right in his world.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he muttered.
He set his elbows on his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
With the exception of when he was performing a surgery, his mind couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Evie. Ever since she walked back into his life wearing those jeans that hugged her curves to perfection, he had to make a concerted effort to direct his attention elsewhere, and it was already starting to wear on him.
For a while Monday afternoon, Bryson had felt a glimmer of hope that he could exist in this city with Evie as his friend and colleague. He’d accepted within moments of her leaving The Sanctuary that such an existence would not be feasible. He could not simply be friends with her. He had never wanted to be only a friend to her. From the first moment he saw her, he’d wanted more.
As if that ever would have happened back then.
He and Evie came from two entirely different universes. His success of the last few years had evened the playing field, but only slightly. Her upbringing, her family’s money and standing within New Orleans’s social circles, was something that would always be out of his reach, no matter how much success he achieved.
He no longer aspired to be part of that lifestyle. He wassatisfied with what he’d accomplished. But back then? Back then, he would have done anything to be part of Evie’s world.
For a moment, hehadbeen part of it.
When Evie showed up at The Sanctuary the summer he volunteered, Bryson viewed it as a test to his character. He’d known that if he could spend the summer working alongside her without crossing that line he had been desperately wanting to cross, then he could achieve anything. But then she’d started to respond to his corny jokes, and their innocuous exchanges had become decidedly more flirtatious.
It was all the incentive he’d needed. Once it became obvious that she was feeling him just as much as he was feeling her, he gave a middle finger to the part of his brain that told him a girl like her could never be serious about a guy from the wrong side of the swamp.
Bryson rested his lips against his folded hands.
He’d spent an entire year after he left Louisiana dissecting just what had made him take such a drastically wrong turn when it came to Evie. Why had he run instead of fighting for her? Was it because of Cameron? Was it because her rich, successful parents would never have approved of him back then?
None of thatshouldhave mattered. He’d allowed it to. He’d allowed Cameron to get into his head, along with his own hang-ups. And in doing so, he had lost—he didn’t want to think about what he’d lost, what he and Evie could have shared.
He dropped his head back into the headrest of his desk chair.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He’d known returning to this city would be like a plunger, bringing up all this old shit he’d put off dealing withfor years. What surprised him was how thoroughly thoughts of Evie had taken over his life.
He had to quash this, and quickly. Even if Evie was remotely interested in being anything more than a friend, the timing was off. He needed his focus to remain squarely on his job and on readjusting to life back in Louisiana.
His cell phone rang. Bryson slipped it from his desk and sat up straight when he saw the name on the screen.
