Now it’s my turn to groan. My throat tickles and my eyes sting, and I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry. “I wish I could, believe me.”
“Maybe someday, eh?” Fiona says. “In the meantime, maybe we’ll run into each other on our travels. I’d love to party with you again. That night in Edinburgh still ranks as one of all-time favorites.”
I laugh weakly. I was so drunk that night I barely remember any details beyond a lot of laughter, sweaty dancing, and possibly a drunken kiss or two. “I’d love to see you again too,” I tell her, not bothering to mention my traveling days are over, at least for now.
We talk for another couple of minutes and ring off with a promise to add each other on Facebook. Feeling about a million times worse than I already did, I stumble to my feet and back to my closet. Barely noticing what I pull from the hangers, I get dressed and leave the house, hoping sunshine will burn away my melancholy.
*****
Bypassing my car, I start walking with no real destination in mind. I attempt to shut off my brain and allow my feet to go where they want. Apparently, they want to go downtown because that’s where I end up, even though I barely remember getting here.
Slowing my pace, I check out the names of the shops and eateries around me. I rarely come downtown because I work and shop on the outskirts of the city, so there’s no reason for me to come down here. Despite not wanting to window shop, I can’t help stopping in front of a few displays. I tell myself it’s research to take back to Ivy, who works with Bridget on PR and marketing for the Village.
I’ve just moved away from an elaborate game setup in the window of a toyshop when I see someone who looks like Kieran duck into a store a few doors down. My heart stops. For the last few weeks, I’ve looked for him nearly everywhere I go. Running into him would be awkward and a test of my willpower, and yet that doesn’t stop me from hoping it’ll happen. I guess I’m a masochist.
Kieran and I shared one kiss.One. It’s not like we were in a committed relationship or even slept together. We saw each other a total of three times and shared one kiss. But it was a mind-blowing kiss. A kiss unlike any I’ve ever had. And it may have only been three encounters, but I can’t remember ever feeling such an instant connection with someone.
What makes it worse is the fact I have his phone number. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete it, even though I should. I know where he lives and where he goes to school. I could show up at his door and tell him I made a mistake and we should see where this leads, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I have too much going on between work and my mom and whatever is happening with me mentally and emotionally. I don’t need any extra complications in my life.
And because of that, I should keep walking. I should turn in the opposite direction and forget I saw him. My feet are still running the show, though, because they shuffle toward the door he just went through. I slip inside the building, not even bothering to see what it is. I’m greeted by a slightly musty scent and the sound of music crackling through wall-mounted speakers that look like they were made a decade or two before I was born.
I’ve heard of this place—Bellevue Records. They buy and sell records, cassettes, and CDs, along with music paraphernalia and collectibles. I smile when I realize the song playing is “With or Without You” by U2. I’m transported back to lazy afternoons in Kitty’s dorm room, listening toJoshua Treeand eating her mom’s cookies. Nostalgia rolls over me; it’s not much different than the melancholy I felt earlier.
Venturing deeper into the store, I peer around for maybe-Kieran. I spot a head of dark curls disappearing down a row of colorful records, so I follow. This place is like a maze, stretching on farther than I imagined, and branching off into aisles of varying lengths and widths. I turn a corner and run smack into a broad chest.
My gaze flies up to meet a pair of amused eyes. Brown eyes. I give myself a swift inner kick; other than the mop of unruly hair, this guy looks nothing like Kieran. He’s much taller and more muscular. Just another case of my brain playing tricks on me.
“S-sorry,” I stammer, backing away and bumping into a rack of cassette tapes that rattle almost as hard as my nerves.
“No problem.” The guy gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a charming smile. “Feel free to bump into me anytime.”
There was a time when I might have laughed and asked if that line ever worked. It might have led to a little harmless flirting and who knows what else. I don’t have the energy for that today, though, so I simply force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace, and I walk away.
Except what I thought was the general direction of the exit turns out to be a dead end. I was so busy attempting to hunt down non-Kieran I didn’t pay attention to the many twists and turns I took through the rows. Catching sight of the Exit sign, I head in that direction. My feet stall again when I round a corner and spot the vintageJoshua Treeposter Kitty has hanging in her dorm room. Underneath it is a bin of used U2 CDs. On impulse, I rummage through it, find a copy ofJoshua Tree, and take it with me. Might as well really sink into this whole masochist thing.
Finally finding my way to the front of the store, I pay for the CD. As I step away from the front counter, I bump into someone for the second time in less than ten minutes.
“Meredith?”
Surprised laughter spills from my lips. “Kitty?I was just thinking about you. In fact…” I pull the CD out of my purse, where I stuffed it after declining a plastic bag. “I just bought this because it reminded me of you.”
Kitty smiles broadly, her eyes brightening when they land on the CD in my hand. “Excellent choice.” She raises her eyes to mine again and her smile falters almost imperceptibly. She pushes her glasses up on her nose and tucks a dark curl behind her ear. “I-I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but I’ve missed you. I went to request you on the companion site the other week and couldn’t find your profile. I remembered you saying once that you could hide it from people if you no longer wanted to work with them, so…” She trails off, her cheeks flooding with color.
“Oh. Oh! No! No, no, no.” I reach out for her, stopping and letting my hand drop before it meets her arm. “That’s not what happened, I promise. I had—have—some personal stuff going on, and I needed a break from the site. I’m sorry you thought that.”
Kitty lifts one shoulder in what appears to be a casual shrug, except I don’t miss the relief in her eyes. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She pauses. “Youareokay, right?”
Am I? Not really. Kitty doesn’t need to know that, though; it’s not like our relationship was ever anything more than business. “I will be,” I say with a forced smile. All my smiles seem to be forced lately. “How about you? Everything okay? Did you find another companion on the site?”
“I didn’t, no,” she says slowly. “I decided I’d wait to see what my therapist suggested, and in the meantime, I ran into Petra…”
“Oh yeah? And?”
“And…we started seeing each other. Casually,” she adds in a rush when my eyes widen. “But it’s been good. Really good.”
Now my smile is genuine. “That’s great, Kitty. I’m so happy for you. And see, you don’t need me anymore anyway.”
Her lips lift in a half smile. “Well, I don’t know aboutthat. The not needing you anymore part, I mean.” She drops her gaze and scuffs the toe of her sneaker along the worn carpet. “I know I wasn’t supposed to get attached to you. It wassupposedto be a working relationship and nothing more. I felt safe with you, though. I felt like you saw me in a way no one else did. You never seemed to see me as the weirdo I saw in the mirror, the one I was afraid other people saw when they looked at me.”
