I wince recalling the paparazzi documenting the public lie I portrayed of happiness. Mentally kicking myself, I wish I hadn’t listened to Mark when he said it was good for me as a public figure.If I’m jealous over her talking with a man in a grocery store, how much did those photos hurt her?
That’s when I admit to myself that everything except the game I dedicated my life to was just armour. A shield to keep the pain of an Amy-less life at bay.
I feel the chasm between us widen. I try to bridge it. “So, I overheard at The Honeyed Hearth that you’re a teacher?”
“Head of the math department at Willow Creek High School.”
“That’s incredible. Really, incredible. You’re young for the position, right?”
“Youngest in the county.”
“Congratulations.”
Her armor lowers for a moment. Her lips curve slightly and I feel my stomach flip over the tiny spark of life on her gorgeous face. “They’re great kids.”
“I’d imagine they would be if they’re yours.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
I hate when her mask drops and there’s wariness in her voice when she asks, “Why did you move here?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Of all the places, you choose my hometown to move to?”
“I didn’t know you lived here,” I protest weakly.
“Right, like Mark wouldn’t mention he ran into me.”
Called it.Still, I protest, “He didn’t.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious.” Her dismissal is frustrating. That’s when it hits me, I did the exact same thing to her, but worse. “I just…moved here.”
“Well, I hope you feel you made a good choice.” Her tone is patently disbelieving.
I clear my throat. “I, uh, guess I better finish up my shopping. I needed groceries and I don’t know if there’s a website to order them to be delivered.”
Amy juts out her chin. “I wouldn’t know. I trust very few things online.”
It feels like she just nailed me with a slap shot in the nuts. I don’t get a chance to absorb the blow when she says politely, “Good luck shopping.”
I want to say hundreds of things. Ask her out for coffee. Talk this out like the adult I am instead of the hotheaded jackass I was. Instead, I read her body language and murmur, “You too.”
She passes by me to head to her class. When she does, I catch a hint of her perfume. It’s the same one she wore in school—clean, citrusy, familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. Surprisingly, she pauses. “Brennan.”
Just her saying my name causes my heart to trip. “Yes?”
“I already have closure from the past. Don’t penalize yourself when you find out the truth.”
I’m about to question what she means, but I’m distracted by the way her steady gaze pins me in place. It sends a frisson of electricity through my body. And it gives me hope.
Maybe Amy isn’t as ambivalent to me as I assumed.
I don’t even realize she’s walked away; I’m so absorbed in my thoughts. I’m uncertain how long I stand there with clenched fingers gripping the cart.
We spoke.
The world didn’t end.
