And so was Lewis.
He didn’t have social media, so I couldn’t check in with him. But sometimes Eils would post a photo of Lewis. And I’d find myself staring at it for hours.
He’d only gotten more handsome, and his hair was even longer now. At least it was when she’d posted a photo of himlast week. He’d worn it in a man bun, and he had enough scruff on his face for it to qualify as a short beard.
My heart physically hurt as I took in the streets of Ardnoch. On every single one, I saw the ghosts of me and Lewis. As kids riding our bikes through the streets. Then as teens, ducking down quiet lanes to make out beyond the eyes of the local gossips. His arms around me, his hand in mine, our laughter ringing in the air.
I didn’t believe happiness was a constant. I believed we had moments of happiness that made life worthwhile.
But I didn’t use to think that. Back then, with him, I was happy almost all the time.
Pain long buried thickened my throat as those memories hit me in wave after wave.
This was the drawback to coming home.
Lewis was everywhere.
And nowhere.
Because he was gone.
And I hated him for it.
I wished, after all these years, I could be over it.
But I despised Lewis Adair for not loving me enough.
For tainting my home with memories so sweet, they stung like razor cuts.
“You okay over there?” Mum asked as we pulled into our cul-de-sac.
“I’m fine,” I lied. But it wouldn’t be a lie forever. Just because Lewis Adair had shattered my heart seven years ago didn’t mean I was ready to give up on love.
In fact, now that I was home, I was determined to be open to a deep, meaningful relationship. I’d plant new memories with a new guy here, and I’d erase every single ghost of Lewis from the streets of Ardnoch.
As if I’d conjured thoughts of them, my phone buzzed inmy purse, and when I pulled it out, I tensed at the name on the screen. Eilidh.
Come to my wrap party next weekend. Not an invite, but a command. You haven’t been to any of my TV stuff, and I’m prepared to guilt you into it.
“Who is it?” Mum asked as she parked on our drive behind Dad’s Volvo.
“Eilidh. She wants me to go to her wrap party next weekend. She’s practically demanding I go.”
“Then you should go.”
“It’s in London.”
“It’s a quick flight.”
I nodded, my thumbs poised over the screen. Then, “Do you thinkhe’llbe there?”
Mum hesitated a second. “I don’t know. I do know he graduated last week and has a permanent position at a firm in London?—”
“How do you know that?”
She gave me a strained smile. “You know Regan and I are friends, and we made a pact not to let what happened between you and Lewis come between us. She was excited and proud and wanted to share her news about her son.”
That was fair. Even if it was the one part of small-town life that had proven to be a pain in the arse. “So, he might be there.”
