CHAPTER THIRTY
NICHOLAS
Monday morning, I’m still buzzing and happy from my thirtieth. The garden party turned into a massive dinner takeover of Papa Papa’s Pizza, and we all closed the night out with dancing at the dive bar next door, where the DJ blasted pop classics for me, Britney Spears and Shakira.
It was the perfect birthday, except for the fact that I kept thinking about Clay. Worrying that he wasn't okay, wishing he were there.
But I do my best to take him at his word. He’s not a big social person, and I respect that. I’ve even avoided texting him, figuring that he might enjoy a little breather. I’ll see him today, anyway.
It’s just that he wore a silly flower costume for me. And even with all my favorite people around me, without him, something was missing.
The achy, tingly sensation goes through me again, starting behind my ribs and tracing all my nerves. I’m falling in love with Clay, and I need to tell him. He might leave either way, but he’ll definitely leave if I don’t say something.
It’s time to put my heart on the line.
When I get to the shop, there’s a note waiting for me, shoved through the mail slot and resting on the floor.
Nicky,
Sorry to run. Jacob wants to go ahead with the purchase, so I need to get things moving back in Missouri.
I’ll be back through Buffalo to get my stuff.
See you soon. And happy birthday, Nicky.
Clay
My stomach sinks. “No,” I whisper at the paper and crinkle it in my hand.
He’s gone. I look toward the second floor of the building, as though I could see him there, where he’s supposed to be.
My thoughts spiral, and the floor disappears beneath my feet. The note says that he’ll be back, so this isn’t the end. But even if he’s just gone for a few days, I’m startled by this sudden disappearance. And without a proper goodbye, too.
Every minute we have left together is precious. But this note rips days away from us, all at once.
“Damn it, Clay,” I mutter, but I’m just as mad at myself.
Why didn’t I say something earlier?
My mind races. He says he’s going back to start things up in Missouri, but that wouldn’t require such an abrupt exit.
Maybe my birthday party scared him away. Maybe the attention and the jokes were too much for him. I’ve tried to respect Clay and the limits we set on our arrangement. But maybe I acted too much like his boyfriend, letting my wishes distract me from reality.
I plop down behind the counter, sick to my stomach with doubt.
He’s gone. My man is gone.
Quickly, I pull out my phone and open our conversation to send a message.
Me: Hi! Found your note. Congratulations on finalizing the deal! I’m sorry not to see you today. Is everything okay?
I add a few flower emojis for good measure and hit send.
Much better to address this head-on instead of letting my thoughts circle all day. But even if he writes back with a perfectly good explanation, this still hurts.
A rap at the back door of the shop gets my attention, and I step over to the door. Sue and Nance are both waiting, mugs of coffee in their hands, dressed for another work day.
Sue smiles. “Morning, Nicky. I’ve got a truck full of flower vases from the party.”
