“Sure, it hurts,” I admit. “But what we have is this wonderful thing. And it’s not over yet. It’s still happening, and I love it, and I don’t want to ruin the last days that I have wishing it were something different.” I realize I’m getting worked up and take a breath to pull myself back together. “I want to have fun with Clay while I can.”
Kavya looks skeptical, but nods. “Have fun. I don’t see why you can’t do that and still tell him how you feel though.”
I start to respond and catch myself. “I didn’t say I feel any way.”
“Didn’t have to,” she says simply.
“Okay. Maybe I have feelings. And maybe they’re gooey. But it would be wrong of me to put them on Clay when I already know he’s not available.” I shake my head quickly, racing through logic I’ve already covered a million times.
The door swings open before Kavya can respond, but I can tell she doesn’t buy my reasoning.
Increasingly, I’m not sure I do, either.
Maybe I’ve been careless with my own heart. I’ve swooned over Clay, had him over to my parents’ house, let myself fantasize about things that aren’t true.
Maybe I’m supposed to harden myself. Push him away because I can’t pull him closer.
And I try to. I list reasons in my head, circling over the same hard truths.
But then Clay walks through the door, and my heart soars, and all I want is him, and to tell him exactly what I feel.
A man with a silver beard follows him, both of his hands under the suspenders that hold up his baggy gray trousers.
“Nicholas,” the man practically bellows. He storms past Clay and straight to me. “You must be Nicholas! I am Jacob.”
“Oh!” I perk up and offer my hand, which he shakes vigorously. “Yes. Nice to meet you.”
He looks around the building. “Just as I remember,” he says and claps his hands. “Very good!”
I look to Clay, who shrugs, his expression telling me that he doesn’t know what to make of Jacob either.
“You’ve been by the flower shop before?” I ask.
Jacob wiggles his hand from side to side. “Not exactly. I met Randy at a bar one night and came home with him. Only saw the upstairs, and we spent half the night in the shower!”
He bellows out a laugh.
“Shower hasn’t changed much,” Clay says. “But I’ve done what I can to restore the place.”
Jacob nods. “So I hear!” He smacks his hands together like he’s cleaning them. “I am ready to move back to the neighborhood. After years downtown, I have decided I want a life like Randy’s. I am retiring, you know!”
I blink, taking it in. “This is definitely the right location for it,” I offer.
Jacob turns to Clay. “You’ve done very good work here,” he announces. “Now show me the furnace I might buy.”
Clay gestures toward the rear. “This way,” he says.
As he walks by me, he slows.
Our eyes meet, and in a few brief seconds, a million things pass between us. Entire conversations held in lust and longing.
It’s happening. He’s secured someone to buy the building.
My breath hitches, and Clay pushes a hand through his hair.
“Looks like Jacob is the guy,” he says, no emotion in his voice.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod, mustering all my optimism to hide how much this hurts. “Looks like it’s going to work out.”
But if everything is working out, why is my heart breaking?
