“No more dwelling,” I tell myself. “And no more memories.”
* * *
“Kamii girl, what you got for me today?” I ask as I walk into her office without knocking. We gave up formalities a while ago, and I love how easygoing she has become. Today doesn’t look like her day, though, and when she looks up tears spill from her eyes. “Why the tears?” I walk faster to her desk and try to comfort her.
“Stupid hormones.” She laughs. “I was looking at the calendar, realizing I’m only a few weeks out, and I don’t have anything ready.”
I’m still shocked to see the huge belly pushing out from Kamii’s little body. I can’t help but smile every time I see her. Not even a year ago she was a workaholic, quiet, keep to herself, kick-ass attorney, and now, she’s everything she never was—except the kick-ass attorney part. She amazes me at every turn.
She’s getting ready for her next case, only this one doesn’t need to be solved, and there’s no owner’s manual attached. I can tell she’s a little freaked out about her baby girl arriving soon, but I know with Preston’s help she’ll do just fine.
“But what about the baby shower? You got a ton of stuff from everyone at the firm,” I remind her.
“I have no clue what to do with all of it. It’s all still sitting in the nursery. I’m a wreck.”
I grab a tissue and hand it to her. “You’ll be fine. Don’t stress. What can I do to help?”
She looks up like a light bulb went off in her head with the best idea she’s ever had, and now I’m scared. I don’t know why I offered to help. I’m happy for Kamii, especially with her past, but I’ve tried my hardest not to get involved in anything related to her pregnancy.
“We don't have anything on the schedule today, do we?” she asks with a devilish grin.
Well, crap.“Um.” I look down at the notebook I’m holding, praying something magically appeared without my knowing it. “Nope, we sure don’t,” I say with a little fear in my voice that I’m trying to hide.
“Yay! We can set up the nursery and have a total girly day.”
Shit. First I see Carter on Facebook and now this?Why is life torturing me this way?
Kamii looks so hopeful. I know I can’t say no, but I don’t know if I can do this.
Looks like I don’t have a choice, though. Not waiting for my reply, she gets up and grabs her purse. “Come on, this is just what I needed today. I guess they call it nesting. I don’t understand all of this, but having you there will be fun.”
I grin, doing my best to fake my excitement as we walk out of her office, grab my stuff, and head to her house. This might just push me over the edge.
Carter
Ihatethis Throwback Thursday hashtag. If I wanted to relive those days, I would. I don’t need Facebook reminding me of it weekly. That was another time, another world that I’ve fought hard to find again but have never found.
Funny enough, Cole, someone I met years ago when I was trying to find my past, is the only real friend I have now. He was volunteering at the student law center when I went in to research my options. After helping me a few times, we ran into each other at a bar and started to hang out from there.
About a year ago, he brought me into a club—a secret club—that is helping me finally move on from my past.
He’s way more outgoing than I am, and we tend to stick together when we’re there. Not that we’re into each other in that way, it’s just more fun to watch one girl with two guys. The way their bodies react and they lose their minds gets me off more than I’ll ever be able to explain.
And it’s enough for me.
That’s why Club Bridge has been exactly what I needed in my life; the one thing that provides the perfect distraction.
But this picture on Facebook that I can’t seem to get out of my mind is taking everything away from me.
I saw it the other morning, commented, but then shut it as quickly as I could, not wanting to feel the ache I always get when I see her there. There were twelve people in the photo, and of course, only ten were tagged. I’ve looked everywhere for her, but it looks like Kaitlyn hasn’t found her either. I didn’t bother looking at who else was tagged, just saw that the number was lower than eleven, so I didn’t bother.
Against my better judgment, I put onFalling Inside the Blackby Skillet. The song has been my go-to when I’m in a funk caused by her. Where women put on sad, sappy songs to listen to, I put on this. It describes my situation so much and makes me feel like I’m not crazy still holding onto all this pain and resentment. Tonight, though, I feel like a complete glutton for punishment, and I do one better than the song—I pull up the photo again. This time, though, I notice there are only nine people tagged now, instead of ten.
The thought makes my insides clench from the unknown. I couldn’t imagine that she’d been tagged and somehow, I didn’t know. It was torture to think I had her that close and hadn’t paid attention.
I start my search all over again. Checking for her name first and then going through every single one of Kaitlyn’s friends. After an hour, the strain in my neck hurts just as bad as the pain in my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever find her.
Staring at the photo, I wonder how much she’s changed. If it’s anything like I have, I wonder if I’d even recognize her. I’ve changed a lot since that photo was taken. I was still a scrawny, twig of a boy, shocked that my crush for all those years was finally giving me the time of day.
After high school, I grew a few more inches and spent a lot of time at the gym to get my frustrations out. I can easily say I’m twice the size I was then. The mop on my head was longer compared to the buzz cut I sport now, and of course, I didn’t have any of the tattoos then. The one thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. No matter how much shit Cole has given me over the years for it, I’d never change anything about it. It’s the only tie I have left to her.
The sight of it catches my attention, and instantly, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath when I’m brought back to that night. It was so perfect. We were perfect. She said we’d be together again, and this tattoo would represent the starting line one day. She winked at me when she said that, and I wonder if she already knew. The thought pisses me off. I stand up, running my fingers through my hair and down my face before grabbing my keys to head out for the night. Thankfully, it’s Thursday, and the club is open.
I only attend on Thursday and Saturday nights. Friday the club has more of a BDSM atmosphere, and that’s not my thing, so I stay away.
I send a quick text to Cole to make sure he’s on his way as well. I don’t have to have him there. I’m just in the mood to blow some steam, and he’s the one who puts all the effort into lining someone up for us. I get to stand back and not talk much but get to participate in the fun.
The women like the mystery of it all, so I run with it. Whatever gets them off, gets me off, so I’m not one to complain.
