“You like my smart mouth.”
“Thanks for lunch,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “And for coming to see me. That was a nice surprise.”
“You should get back out there,” I say, but I don’t move. “You know… to the twenty tiny humans on sharp blades.”
“Ah, they’re fine. Most of them can stand now without face-planting.”
“Always a plus.”
I give him one more lingering kiss before forcing myself to step away. Digging in my bag for my keys, I call over my shoulder, “Okay, see you later. Love you.”
I freeze.
The world tilts.
Shit.
I didn’t just think it. I said it. Out loud.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He’s still on the ice, and I’m frozen, peeking over my shoulder still. My heart beats so hard I’m dizzy. It’s hot, and my knees are wobbly.
He doesn’t respond. Or maybe he does, and I miss it because my ears are ringing. Either way, the answering quiet hanging between us is somehow so fucking loud.
I force out a thin, brittle laugh and wave, then I bolt out of the rink before he can say anything.
Or not say anything.
My hands shake as I try to open my car door. The dumb, angry seagull is still harassing me.
Dammit, Izzy.I told Jack I love him. And now I have to live with whatever that means.
The seagull dive bombs me. I whirl around. “Read the room!”
I force my key into the door lock, thinking I’m finally free when it clicks. I yank the door open just in time to hear a loud plop.
I glance down at the giant splatter of poop, then back at the seagull now halfway across the parking lot, where Bridget is climbing out of Kathleen’s Subaru.
“Oh, Izzy! Hi.” She waves. I try my best to hold my breath. I hate dry heaving. “Kathleen, Jack’s girlfriend is here.”
Shit.
Kathleen comes around the car in a knee-length parka and a wool beanie slipping to one side over her blonde-and-silver hair. “Sweetheart.” She takes one look at my shoulder and presses her lips together to suppress a laugh. “Bad morning?”
“Complicated.”
“Hmm.” She exchanges a look with Bridget. “We were just about to get lunch. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Oh, well, I should head back to the store.” I search mymind for more excuses, landing on a half-truth. “So many boxes to unpack.”
It’s not exactly a lie. No one tells you that most days, it feels like I’m running a UPS drop site over a bookstore.
“Just a quick bite. Might help turn things around. Don’t worry, we’ll bring you back for your car after.”
I wish the giant potholes in the parking lot would swallow me up. I don’t want to be here, afraid that any second, Jack will come running through those doors.
And then what?
