CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CLAY
Nicholas’s mouth pops open. “Oh!” He’s in his vintage gray suit jacket with one of the floral print t-shirts, and there’s a purple flower pinned to the lapel. “That quick?”
I swallow, forcing myself to tell him even though it feels difficult.
“Jacob is already familiar with the building, apparently. He wants to see it before he makes an offer, but he sounds confident that he’ll want to move forward.”
The door swings open behind me, and a few people come strolling into the shop. In the bustle, I walk to the counter, joining Nicholas.
“He’s interested in the building as it is,” I say quickly. “And he’s glad that there’s a flower shop downstairs. He wants you to stay put.”
Nicholas nods quickly. “That’s such a relief,” he says, although I maybe hear strain in his voice. “And congratulations.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Business in the shop is picking up around us, and I stand there, totally at a loss for what I’m supposed to say or how I’m supposed to feel.
I’m going to receive a very large check. Nicholas is going to keep his shop. It’s what we hoped for.
But I’m angry and torn up inside. And Nicholas not getting upset bothers me, which isn’t fair. It’s not like I want him to be sad. Hell, I had hoped this outcome would make him happy.
It won’t be long now before I leave Allentown and never come back. I didn’t expect to stay here, but the reality of leaving hits me like a punch in the gut. I’m surprised to realize it makes me want to fight this good news, reject what I’ve been working for.
Doesn’t make any damn sense.
Instead, I grit my teeth and nod, burying those feelings.
“I should let you get back to work.”
A customer approaches with a small vase, and Nicholas smiles, his usual bright mood returning with full force. “Sounds good. And congratulations again! Your hard work is paying off.”
With a grunt, I head upstairs.
I feel annoyed. Mad at myself. Unsatisfied.
I set myself up for this, and I know better. Getting attached and relying on someone else just means getting hurt.
Or even worse, hurting Nicholas. But I can’t imagine he would ever feel the way about me that I might be starting to feel about him.
Not that I feel any way about him. These are probably all sex feelings.
Restless, I pull out Randy’s journal. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I start to read through the first pages again. It’s all about Allen, this guy he’s been sleeping with casually for years, but only just now realized that he loves.
There are pages and pages about Allen, how fucked up Allen makes him feel. How everything about Allen rocked Randy’s world.
That’s it. I’m done whining to myself like a crybaby in this journal. I’m going to tell Allen I have feelings for him. It makes me want to vomit just writing that. I feel like a pathetic sap. But fuck it. I’m going to tell him soon that I love him, and I want him to be mine, goddamn it.
I close the book. It’s intense to read and hear his voice in my head.
Whatever qualities I inherited from Randy, resisting any opportunity to share my feelings goes near the top of the list. I’ve been challenging that in myself the last couple of weeks, but I understand the pain he’s in.
There’s not much mystery in how it turns out, though. I know he was alone and single for a long time, so Allen must not have returned the sentiment.
Figures. That’s as good a reminder as any that I shouldn’t get confused about my emotions right now. There’s an inevitable end to my time with Nicholas, and that’s a good thing. Otherwise, I might end up torturing myself like Randy.
Messed up how that makes me feel closer to him. To my grandpa.
