I shrug. “Often enough, I guess. How have you been?”
My chest warms at seeing him, memories flooding me. I try not to be sad over what could have been with us, and just be happy that he’s here and not trying to strangle me. Dare I say he looks happy to see me?
“Pretty good,” he answers. “I’m living here now.”
“In New York?” My brows skyrocket.
He chuckles. “Yeah, have been for about a month or so.”
“Wow, I had no idea.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Is, uh… Are you—” I struggle to ask the question that’s been plaguing me for months. Austen smirks, just before he answers.
“We’re divorced. Officially, as of two weeks ago.”
“Congratulations?” I say with a nervous chuckle.
He laughs back, the sound full and genuine. He ducks his head, his dirty blonde hair getting windswept in the process. “It’s for the best. We weren’t meant to be.”
No, you weren’t… I knew it from the beginning.
“Are you hanging around for a bit?” I ask.
He lifts his wrist to look at his watch—thewatch. The one I bought him all those years ago. He still has it, still wears it. It shouldn’t make my heart so happy, but fuck…he still has it.
“I have somewhere to be in about an hour, but I’m free until then.”
“Cool.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “You wanna walk together for a bit?”
His eyes shine with humor, his lips pulling up into a grin. “I’d like that.”
Thank fuck.
I grin in return, and we walk down the path, scoping out the different vendors we pass. We browse but nothing catches our eye enough to purchase, and I definitely don’t mention the shot I had just bought of the building he was looking at buying. I am curious though… if he’s here, living here, where is he working?What did he decide on? I’ve walked by that building so many times over the last few months, sometimes not on purpose but a lot of times on purpose. I needed to know if he went through with it, if he was there, if he decided to come back, or if he was staying with her…
I was tempted to find out, to reach out to someone back at home and see if they could fill me in on the gossip, but I decided I was better off not knowing.
I stopped calling him about two months ago. I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to move on. Did I? No, not entirely, but I’d accepted the fact that I would never fully move on from Austen Brewer. And somehow… here he is again. I can’t tell if this is fate’s way of giving us another chance or if it enjoys tormenting me. Whatever it is, if I get another shot with Austen, I will not fuck it up. I won’t.
We walk around the festival in mostly silence, only chatting when we see something interesting, and it feels almost comfortable. Like time hasn’t passed at all, but I know it has. I want to ask him a million questions, see how he’s really been doing, see if he’s okay. There’s so many things I want to ask about his life, but I can’t cross a line. I fucked up, and though I’ve apologized through texts a hundred times, I’ve never had the opportunity to really apologize. And now isn’t the time for that.
“I’ve got to get going,” Austen says once we’ve finished our third walk around the park.
“Yeah, okay. It was nice seeing you.”
He gives me a strange smile, not saying anything and not moving. It’s a little awkward and I wonder if I have something on my face.
“Do you think we could… hang out sometime?” he asks carefully.
My brow furrows and I look behind me, then back at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah…”
“Fuck yeah, we can.”
He chuckles. “Do you have the same number?”
“I do.”
He takes a step back, raising his hand in a goodbye. “I’ll text you.”
