He’s anticipating tying everything up with a bow so he and Cash can move on with their lives. But it makes me sad to think of the Creole cottage being finished. It feels like the end of an era.
In fact, a lot of things are feeling like endings instead of beginnings. Cash’s house. The last item on our list of excursions. And…me and Cash.
Yep. In case my decision to give Luc a chance didn’t make it clear, I’ve finally let go of the notion that Cash and I are meant to be. Finally admitted that what we had was sweet and wonderful—and it will always hold a special place in my heart—but it’s over. It’sbeenover for quite some time. And, just like he said, the only reason I didn’t see it before was because I was looking backward instead of forward. Focusing on whatwasinstead of what is and what could be. But my eyes are firmly affixed ahead of me now. And I see.
What brought about all these grand epiphanies, you ask?
Simple. It was Luc’s poem.
That beautiful, devastating poem.
Seeing the words “loving her has made me a fool” broke my heart in two. And then when I read that last line? “Time to let go of my baby”? My vision tunneled, and I broke out in a cold sweat.
I would never wish ill on anyone, but Chrissy’s husband’s broken ankle couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Inundated with a gazillion swirling emotions, I needed an excuse to leave Luc’s place. To get a hold of myself. To be alone with my whirlwind thoughts. And on the drive into town, as the miles separating us grew, it all came clear.
I want Luc.
I love him.
And I’ll never know if I’m fallinginlove with him until I take everyone’s advice and give him a chance and…speak of the devil.
I texted and said I’d meet him and Cash in front of M.S. Rau Antiques. Now I think it might’ve been better had I waited inside. Then I wouldn’t have to watch him walking toward me with that easy saunter and those mile-wide shoulders.
As Auntie June would say,He’s fit as a butcher’s dog.
I swear my ovaries spontaneously emit two dozen eggs. Then I glance at Cash, walking beside him, and the poor organs shrivel.
He looks…not bad. Cash could never lookbad. His bone structure and coloring won’t allow it. But he’s too skinny. The scar across his forehead still looks red and irritated. And his eyes are pinched, like today the pain is getting the better of him.
As if to prove my point, he reaches into his back pocket for his flask, and a little bit of me dies. Ihatehow much he’s suffering. And Ihatethat there’s nothing Luc or I or anyone else can seem to do for him.
The only comfort I can find is in the thought that, with the cottage so close to completion, rehab will—hopefully—be right around the corner. I’ve spent a lot of hours online reading everything I can on alternative pain treatments. I know way more about acupuncture, hypnosis, guided meditation, and relaxation therapy than I ever wanted to. Once Luc is clean and sober, I’m thinking we’ll try them all. And I’m crossing my fingers one of them will work.
“Beautiful day,” Luc says when they join me on the sidewalk.
His smooth, deep voice usually works as a balm on my frayed nerves. But not today. Today it only makes me more nervous. And without thinking, I go up on tiptoe and hug him for a second.
Okay, it’s probably more like two seconds, possibly five. But in my defense, that’s how long it takes me to remember his decree about no hand-holding or ear-tugging or kissing until I make my choice. He didn’t mention hugging, but I suppose it was implied.
Letting him go, I step back. Since I don’t know what to say, I stare at his Adam’s apple like a mute idiot. It’s a particularly nice Adam’s apple as far as Adam’s apples go, and when he swallows, I track its path as it travels up the column of his tanned throat. When it bounces back into place, I’m jogged out of my momentary trance.
Despite the heat stinging my cheeks, I force myself to lift my eyes.
Luc’s tall, so my gaze has to travel a ways up before I can find his expression. When I do, I discover a fond smile waiting for me instead of a rebuking frown. It takes some effort, but I smile in return. Unfortunately, the right side of my mouth twitches down.
Why the heck am I so nervous? AroundLuc,of all people. I mean, just because I’ve decided to give this thing between us a chance doesn’t mean he’s a different person.
And yet…hefeelsdifferent.
To hide my jitters, I fold Cash into my embrace. His beard stubble is scratchy against my cheek, and his shoulders are bony, but otherwise he smells the same, feels the same,isthe same. Which means it’smewho’s changed. Because that special thrill of being in his arms is…
I concentrate and hang on a second longer just to make sure.
Yep. It’s gone.
Where once my bones would turn to liquid, now all I feel is warm affection. Where once my heart would pound, now I don’t even have to catch my breath.
There’s relief, but also sadness, in that. In finally, completely, wholeheartedly letting go of my young girl’s foolish dream.
