“I’ll take it. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Gratitude washed over his face, and he gave me a hug. “I am sorry, man.”
I clapped his back and pulled away before the cracks in the dam began to burst. “It’s all good.”
“So this date…” Donte cleared his throat. “Is he hot or what?”
I burst out laughing.
“Shut up.” He chuckled. “It’s a valid question.”
“I guess he’s good looking. I haven’t really thought about it.”
He’s not Holden.
Donte’s brows scrunched as if he’d read my mind. “Hey, whatever happened to that guy with the silver hair? Holden, right? Weren’t you two together?”
“We were but not anymore,” I said, my throat tightening. “He’s in Europe. Just published a book, actually.”
“Oh yeah? Any good?”
“It’s fucking brilliant,” I said with more energy than I meant to. “I mean, yeah. It’s good.”
“Cool. Well, I’ll let you get to it,” Donte said. “Let’s hang out though, before I’m shipped off.”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“All right, man. Good to see you.”
“You too.”
I watched Donte leave, like a ghostly visitation from my former life.I’d been on autopilot for the last few years, letting the days slide over me, filling them with work so I didn’t go crazy missing all the people who were absent from my life. Having Donte back felt good, but the biggest voids remained raw and empty.
I finished up work several hours later, went to my place, showered and changed for my date, feeling like I was about to cheat on Holden.
“Knock it off,” I told myself, pulling on a black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. “He’s not coming back. No calls. No texts. Live your life.”
My life. Whatever that was.
I met Brad at El Palomar, off Pacific Avenue. He was already there and waved me over to a table for two in the center of the restaurant. Brad had dressed in jeans, a blue button-down, and a sport coat that made me feel casual by comparison.
“Hey, good to see you,” he said, smiling brightly. He had a nice smile. Thick, light brown hair, nice build, nice eyes.
He’s so…nice, said a sly voice that sounded like Holden.Hownicefor you.
I smirked to myself, but phantom Holden was right. Brad Martin was nice with a capital N, and he’d make someone a great boyfriend; it just wasn’t going to be me. Before the waiter came to take our drink order, I knew we weren’t getting to a second date.
I listened hard as Brad told me about himself, letting him do all the talking while despair sank its teeth deeper with every passing minute. I wanted Holden. Three years gone except for one night in Paris, and I was still waiting for him.
When the check came, I grabbed for it quick, ready for the night to be over.
Brad’s hand covered mine over the little tray. “I should get this. I asked you.”
“Nope, I’ve got it.”
