"I missed you too," I tell him as we rock back and forth, arms wound tightly around each other. When I pull away, I give him a critical once-over. The air has turned cooler since we're in the last week of November, and Stevie is wearing a long-sleeved black turtleneck with black skinny jeans and black Doc Martens. He's even wearing a pair of thick black plastic frames and his Mohawk is black.
"You're looking kind of like a depressed coffee-shop poet," I tell him with a snort.
"What do you mean? This is what I'm wearing to the game tonight. Cold Fury colors, and I'd rather be shot than wear one of those big, bulky jerseys. So unflattering. Of course, I'm going to wear a really nice silver belt. I've got to break up all this black."
"The game?" I ask dumbly, and Stevie nods at me impatiently, turning away to walk back into the design area.
"Garrett gave me a ticket for tonight. Have to go cheer my boy on, you know?" he says in a singsong voice as he starts pulling the large buckets of fresh uncut flowers from the coolers so he can do inventory.
Something oily slithers through me, and I think it might be jealousy. "Garrett's your boy now, huh?"
Stevie's head snaps my way, and his eyes are wide. The tone of my voice was flat and filled with censure, because it didn't seem fair that I'd lost Garrett but Stevie still had him. If Stevie was still friends with Garrett, that meant at some point I'd run into him, and I didn't think I could handle that.
"Do you have a problem with me still being his friend?" Stevie asks quietly.
Yes, I want to scream at him, but I don't, because I immediately feel like shit for wanting to take away Stevie's friendship.
Sighing, I slump down onto one of the stools and shoot him an apologetic look. "No, of course I don't want that. It's just...hard to think of you still seeing him when I won't be. I guess it hurts a little."
"He's hurting too," he reprimands, and turns back to the flowers. "How about coming and giving me a hand with these?"
I roll off the stool and walk with slumped shoulders over to the cooler, methodically dragging each of the flower buckets out into the open area so we can count our stock. We work quietly, which is unusual, because Stevie always keeps up a running banter of gossipy goodness. He's miffed at me and probably confused, but I just don't know any other way to explain my actions to him.
After about twenty minutes, we have the flowers counted and our order forms completed for when the truck will arrive this afternoon with fresh stock.
"Go ahead and get started on the orders," Stevie says distractedly, and heads for the front of the store to unlock the door for customers.
"Hey," I call out to him, and he turns to me with inquisitive eyes. "Is, um...is he seeing anyone?"
"Seeing anyone?" Stevie asks curiously.
"You know...back to his man-whore ways, or maybe...dating someone seriously?"
A tiny glint of a smile forms on Stevie's face, but he doesn't let it loose. Instead, he casually shrugs. "I'm not sure. He doesn't discuss his sex life with me."
"His sex life? He has a sex life?" I practically screech, and I know it's ludicrous even as the words coated in razor wire escape my mouth.
Stevie's smile widens and turns positively evil. "Slip of the tongue," he says blandly. "No clue what Garrett does in his personal time. He's been quiet about it with me, but then again...do you think he'd really tell me if he was seeing someone? Knowing that it would get back to you?"
My stomach drops, rolls over, cramps painfully. My heart constricts just as hard within my chest, and it feels as if all the oxygen in my lungs dissipates. Garrett definitely would not tell Stevie if he was dating again. And the fact he hasn't said anything leads me to believe that he has, indeed, moved on from me and is seeing other women.
Anger flushes through me, followed by despair and longing, because I have no right to be angry. I have no right to expect anything of him, because not only did I break up with him, but I ignored his emails that he sent to me in a last-ditch attempt to keep me connected to him. When I didn't do anything, it took away his hope, and he's clearly moved on.
That thought is so painful, I double over and cross my arms over my stomach.
But I deserve this...I deserve this pain. I deserve to feel it, because I know Garrett has felt it. But I need to keep my resolve too. I need to seek comfort from knowing that eventually this pain will recede, and then Garrett can move on with his life and find someone better suited for him. That has to be my balm.
That has to keep me strong, and I'm grateful that Stevie isn't pushing at me to let Garrett back in.
--
The morning goes by quickly, and I get immersed deeply in the soothing motions of creating various arrangements. Stevie is conspicuously silent, and his message is clear as he handles the customers up front. He's not happy with my choices, he's completely sympathetic to Garrett, and he's letting me know it.
So be it...I don't answer to him and I didn't make these choices with any thought other than saving Garrett potential heartbreak and misery down the road.
The front doorbell rings and I can hear Stevie talking to someone in a low voice. I tune it out and sink back into the simple vase of red roses and baby's breath I'm putting together.
"Hey," I hear, and my head raises, my eyes widening in surprise when I see Alex leaning against the door frame.
"Hey," I say hesitantly, completely flummoxed why he would be standing here. While Alex is engaged to Sutton, and I'm extremely close to her, I'm not necessarily very close to Alex. He's always friendly and engaging, and I know he cares about me, but for the life of me I can't figure out why he would come to see me. "Are you here to buy some flowers?"
"Um...no...I'm actually here to see you," he says with a short smile as he steps in through the doorway to the design area and shuts the door. I glance through the window to the front and see Stevie with his head bowed over some receipts spread out on the checkout counter.
Alex walks over to my design table and leans over, sniffing at the roses. "Nice," he says as he pulls back, and then sits down on the stool beside me.
I swivel my body toward him and just look at him in curiosity. He's dressed in a pair of well-faded jeans and a long-sleeved black thermal tee. His dark hair is choppy and wavy all around his face and his pale eyes watch me with intensity.
"So, what's up?" I ask, again for the life of me just not understanding why he's here.
"I wanted to talk to you about Garrett," he says simply, his voice firm and in control.
My voice, however, shakes when I ask, "What's to talk about?"
"Oh, there's a lot to talk about, Olivia. Mainly I want to talk about how you broke my best friend's heart." He's angry and feels warranted in giving me a piece of his mind. I get it and I accept that anger. I'd feel the same if I was in his shoes.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't make this decision lightly."
Some of the anger drains from Alex's face, and he reaches out to place his hands on my shoulders. Leaning in, he looks me dead in the eye. "He's hurting a lot. I know you are too. That's what happens when two people who love each other and don't have any sane reason for being apart keep themselves apart."
I bring my hands up and clasp them onto Alex's wrists. "It's not that simple. I had to cut Garrett loose."
"You had to cut him loose?" Alex asks me incredulously as he releases his hold. His eyes flash hot again. "Garrett filled me in on your asinine ideas. About how you overheard him talking to Stevie, and how you don't want him to be devastated if something happened to you, yada, yada, yada."
His voice sounds bored...and he's...he's...mocking me?
My face heats with anger. "Don't make light of my feelings," I snap at him. "You don't know what it's like to be in my shoes and have to deal with this shit."
Alex shakes his head, completely nonplussed with my outburst. "Darling...I may not know what it's like to have cancer, but I do know what it's like to be in love, and there isn't anything better. You gave that up because it got too hard for
you."
"I gave Garrett up because I care about him. I love him and I don't want him to be destroyed by me down the road. I did it for him."
"Oh, bullshit, Olivia," Alex snarls at me...which is actually a bit scary, and I lean back on the stool to try to distance myself from the venom in his voice. "You did it for you...because you're too afraid to let someone in all the way. You disrespected Garrett and demeaned his feelings for you. You made a unilateral decision, and I'm here to tell you, honey...it was a bad decision."
I open my mouth to tear into him, but nothing comes out. My lips move and I'm sure I look like a gasping fish, but no words of wisdom or outrage pour out. I'm wallowing in stunned silence after Alex's harsh words.
Taking a deep breath, Alex lets it out slowly, and he gives me a small smile. "Look...I didn't come here to jump all over you. I just wanted to try to give you some perspective."
"And what perspective would that be that I haven't already considered?" I don't ask this defensively, but with genuine curiosity, because maybe I'm desperately seeking something to make me realize that I am truly wrong about all this.
"Do you truly understand how much Garrett has changed since he met you?"
I nod, my mind swirling through hundreds of memories I've built with him over the past months, all the complete antithesis to the man-whore philanderer he was.
"He changed for the better after meeting you, because that's what love does to you. It happened to me with Sutton. And the thing that impresses me the most about Garrett is the amazing strength and fortitude he has shown. I don't know of any other man that would have done what he's done...stood by your side, made you a priority, given you strength to help fight this."
"I know," I whisper with shame. Shame that I took all that from him.
"Then you need to let him continue being strong. You need to let him, as a man, prove that strength to you. You took away his decision to fight this out with you...you weakened him with your inflexibility and unwillingness to talk this through. You showed no respect or honor for what he's done for you already, and you should be ashamed."
Holy shit, those words hurt. I mean really, really hurt deep in my gut.
My head lowers and I stare blankly at the tiled floor. I refuse to look up at him, still refusing to let go of my greatest fear. "But what if I die on him? What if I let him love me and then I die?"
Alex's hand reaches out and cups me under the chin. He pushes up to raise my face, and my eyes hesitantly drag to his. He gives me a sympathetic smile, cocking his head to the side. Leaning in, he whispers, "But what if you fucking live?"
Chapter 29
Garrett
I keep watching the door of Houlihan's, my gaze sliding from the three women standing around me...past their shoulders, past the other bar patrons...and to that damn door where I hope Olivia will be walking in.
Alex, that fuckwad, didn't tell me she'd be at the game tonight. He just told me that he had gone by Fleurish to check in on her, welcome her back home, but then he was strangely silent. It's okay...I wasn't about to ask him the details, because the more I let my mind wander to Olivia, the more it opens up old hurts. That's why after a solid week of writing her emails and never getting one response, I finally just decided to let it go.
Let her go, the way she'd let me go.
And, fuck, if I haven't felt miserable ever since.
Miserable I've lost her, and hurt and pissed and furious that she would do this to me. That she had such little regard for the connection we had. I love her, for Christ's sake, and she said she loved me...once at least.
I was out on the ice during warm-ups when out of the corner of my eye I saw Alex skate up to the glass and bump his fist against it. I saw Sutton there with her little brother, Glenn, who was bumping his fist back against the glass in response to Alex. I let a smile come to my face, feeling its warmth, because smiles didn't come often to me, and started to turn away. But then I realized there was someone else familiar standing next to Glenn.
Long, golden hair striped amber, caramel, and dark brown among the blond. Braided...one hanging over each shoulder.
Olivia.
My heart stopped cold in my chest...and maybe I died for just a second as our eyes locked. I couldn't read anything on her face...so much for eyes being windows to the soul, but she read me loud and clear as I grimaced and then turned away, skating back to center ice and away from the woman who tore me apart.
All my hurt, all my frustration, and all my anger morphed into something that felt strangely liberating in my chest. I decided right then and there I wouldn't look back her way for the rest of the game. And I'd show her exactly what she gave up...a man who could be strong and move on like she'd asked me to.
No...correction. She didn't ask. She forced me. Gave me no choice.
Fuck, that pisses me off!
I was on fire during the game. My legs were strong, my focus honed sharp, and I helped our team sail to a 3-1 victory, getting two goals myself. I let the excitement of the game fill me and my love for the sport soothe my aching soul. And for a brief period of time, I put Olivia out of my mind.
It felt good after the game, having my teammates love on me, hearing the fans screaming as I was named game MVP. I imagined Olivia's eyes following me as I skated back out on the ice for my acknowledgment lap and wondered if she was feeling any hurt because I refused to acknowledge her. I sort of hoped she did, because as far as I know...by her silence, I can only assume she's not feeling much of anything for me.
I never hesitated a second before accepting Alex's request to head over to Houlihan's for a few beers. I knew Sutton would be there, and I was betting anything that Olivia would be too. It was time to put Operation Forget Olivia into effect, and now was as good a time as any to do it while staring her in the eye. Imagine the fortitude I'd be showing her by moving on with my life right before her.
"Garrett...you were so hot out on the ice tonight," one of the women says as she lays a hand on my chest. Her words vaguely penetrate, and I reluctantly take my eyes from the door to look at her.
She's stunning--long, dark hair; chocolate-brown eyes; tits and an ass to die for. The two women with her are equally as beautiful, with model-like faces, tight clothes, and promise in their eyes.
Hmmmm...three women at once? Two had been my record, but maybe it was time to break it.
And involuntarily, my eyes wander to the door again, almost willing Olivia to walk through. With a blast of despair, I realize that no matter if I took ten women home with me tonight who would do nothing but shower pleasure on my body, it would never come close to just one sweet kiss from Olivia.
Anger surges through me again that she would just unilaterally take that away from me, and I stiffen up with resolve.
"Any interest in partying with us tonight?" one of the other women says, and again, once again, my eyes drag away from the door. But just before I turn to answer the bold beauty, I see Olivia walking through with Sutton and Glenn. They start to head back to the restaurant portion of the place, because Glenn wouldn't be allowed in the bar area. I see Sutton's eyes connect with Alex's, who is standing with a few of our other teammates. She inclines her head toward the back and he nods in agreement, and I know he'll be following them back there to have a quiet beer with the love of his life.
Yeah...not me. I'll be suffering under three women hitting on me, not a one of them really even fucking of interest to my cock. It hasn't even perked up once in response to the exposed cleavage or sensual touches being laid upon me as they flirt.
Just fucking great. She not only broke my heart but broke my dick as well.
My gaze goes back to Olivia, and I'm vaguely aware that because I haven't answered the one woman's question and instead have been staring at the door, all three women's heads turn in that direction.
Olivia's gaze holds me for a minute, then her eyes slide to the women standing around me. The brunette still has her hand on my chest, and it feels foreign to me. I itch to p
ush it off, spare Olivia that image, but I don't move because I know a tiny part of me wants to hurt her, the way she hurt me.
When her eyes come back to mine, her face is hardened in resolve. She throws her shoulders back and strides right up to me and my sexy crew. A glance toward my posse shows them looking Olivia up and down with disdain on their faces. The brunette steps in closer to me and flexes her fingers, her nails scoring down into my chest.
Olivia gets all up in our space, causing the other two women to step backward. The brunette, however, plasters herself closer to me in propriety. Not even sparing the women a glance, Olivia stares at me with open vulnerability and says, "Can we talk?"
One half of me silently says, Yes. Talk. Kiss. Make love. Whatever you want.
The other half, the half that is still stinging from her rejection, refuses to give her the pleasure. She was brutally silent toward me when she decided to break things off, and it was a pain that I don't ever want to feel again. Not knowing what was going through her head. Not knowing if the love was all a lie.
This half of me...it wants her to feel the same hurt. That part of me wants to hurt her.
Before I can open my mouth to brush her off, the brunette steps forward a little and gets in Olivia's face. "Can't you see he's busy? Now run along."
She even makes a shooing motion with her free hand at Olivia, and I notice her fingers are tipped with gaudy, hot-pink, clawlike nails. So tacky.
Olivia, being the mature one, of course, just stares blandly at the brunette for a minute. Then her eyes slide to mine, her eyebrows raised in question to her original request.
I give her a smirk and say, "Yeah...as you can see, kind of busy."
There it is...hurt, pain, confusion on that beautiful face. And for a split instant, I feel vindicated. I feel happy that she's feeling the brutality of rejection...same as me.
Her eyebrows furrow in and she looks at me with pleading eyes. "Please."
A sharp pain pinches at my chest, followed by a wave of shame. But I push it down, screaming at it to go away. I call on the memory of my misery these last few weeks and I let it fortify me.
"Sorry," I say in a totally unapologetic voice. "But maybe I'll call you sometime."
Olivia looks bewildered. She looks at me as if I'm a stranger. She looks devastated.