So sorry, couldn’t pick up. Just leaving a meeting and going straight to a phone conference. Promise we’ll talk soon. xxx
The desire to throw my phone is strong. I shove it in my pocket without replying to Hugh. Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the distance—literal and metaphorical—will help me get over him quicker since a breakup seems inevitable. I thought I’d be okay with our agreement to hit pause, but I didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be. If we were officially a couple and making plans for the future, it would be different. Yet here it is, almost spring, and nothing has changed, nothing has been decided. There’s been no mention of him coming home, even for business, or of me visiting him in Scotland.
Bridget told me to be patient. She told me not to give up yet. I hate the idea of giving up, but there’s also something to be said for self-preservation. Hugh and I were never actually in a relationship. Hell, I never even saw his apartment here—we always spent time at my place. I do think we could be great together; if I allowed myself to think about it, which I don’t often, I could see myself building a life with him. But you can’t build a life on an unsteady foundation. One that crumbles a bit more each day.
I vow to give this one more shot. The official beginning of spring is right around the corner—a time for new beginnings, rebirth. I won’t do anything hasty. If things haven’t changed in another few weeks, I’ll have to think seriously about ending things with Hugh. After all, I’ve already proved I’m capable of fresh starts. I got a second chance with Celia, and things with her have been great. I quit the job I thought would be my forever career, and I’m living my dream of working with books. I can move on from Hugh if I have to.
The thought makes a pit form in my stomach. I can do it if I have to, but I sure as hell don’twantto.
Taking a deep breath, I come out of hiding. I stop to talk to customers and feel better after spending a few minutes in my element recommending books and telling people about the book club we’ve started. I ring up a few purchases, pleased to see some of my recommendations in the lot. This job really is everything I could have hoped for.
When the last customer leaves with a huge bag of books—my kind of woman—I hear Piper’s voice filtering from the back room. I head in that direction, planning to ask if she’d like a London Fog latte. We’ve been working on plans to rearrange the store and create a small café area. In the meantime, our personal coffee machine, tea kettle, and milk frother get a good daily workout with drinks for ourselves and a select few customers who have seen us with said drinks and offered to pay us to keep them caffeinated while they’re here.
I stop when Piper’s voice becomes clearer and I realize she sounds irritated. “You need to do something. She’s starting to get fed up and I hate keeping things from her.” I hover outside the door, a mixture of curiosity and dread swirling inside me. “I know, I know. I get that, but at this point I think it would be better to potentially disappoint her than to keep things from her.”
She goes silent, and I realize I can hear my own heart beating. I have this terrible feeling she’s talking about me. My elevated heartbeat makes my blood whoosh in my ears, and I take an involuntary step closer to the door.
Piper sighs. She sounds resigned when she says, “Okay, fine. I know you’re doing everything you can, but you need to know how this is affecting her, and in turn, me. I love her too, you know.” She pauses again and then says, “Yes, Hugh. I’ll talk to you later.”
My legs kick into gear before my brain does, and I dash away from the door. I don’t know what the etiquette is for eavesdropping and then discovering the conversation was about you, but I can’t do this right now. The sensible part of my brain is screaming at me to be a grown up and confront this head on, ask Piper what she and Hugh were talking about. She sounded dismayed; clearly, whatever they were talking about was on Hugh to tell me, not her.
Piper has done so much for me over the last few months, I hate to put her on the spot. Plus she’s been friends with Hugh a lot longer than with me, and the fact they’re still in touch when I hardly get to talk to him says they must be close.
I finally stop in one of the rows of books, taking a minute to catch my breath. My eyes are drawn to the colorful paperback spines, and I let out a little groan.Of courseI’m in the Romance section. Normally this is my favorite area of the store, but today it only serves as a reminder of how screwed up my own love life is.
That new beginning I was contemplating earlier might be coming sooner than anticipated.
