Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
I stood behind the counter of The Bees Knees, spinning the bottle cap of my Dr. Pepper. I watched it spin in circles before it fell flat on the counter.
Everything always falls. I was foolish to believe otherwise.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time today. No new calls or texts from Grant. It had been four days since I realized I was falling in love with him, and the same four days since he pulled away. I was so glad I hadn’t said anything about my realization to him.
I spun the bottle cap again and watched it fall. He’d called Sunday night and said he had some unexpected repairs at work, and he needed to cancel our plans. I wasn’t worried. I thought he meant plans for the next day. I figured he would call that night. He didn’t, and he hadn’t called since.
My chest squeezed tighter. I should have stuck to setting up other people. Why had I let everyone change my mind that this was better?
I walked over to the record player and picked up the needle, silencing Elvis. I set the tonearm on the player handle. If I listened to Elvis now, every time I listened in the future, I would think of Grant. I would rebuild the barrier around my heart, but I wouldn’t let him ruin the King for me, too. I was exhausted, and it was only 8 a.m. on Wednesday.
I plopped into the yellow velvet swivel chair, my body sinking deeper than the chair should allow. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical; it was in my bones, deep in my soul, and refused to leave. My limbs felt heavy, my heart heavier. I couldn’t replay every interaction over more than I had. Was his hug more distant than before? Was his goodbye faster?
I reread our recent text thread as I turned the chair. I looked for a hidden sign or pivotal shift—a moment in time I could pinpoint at why or when things changed. But it was the same since Sunday, a handful of one-word texts, few and very far between.
I leaned back in the seat and rested my head. I wished I’d let go gracefully. I texted way more than socially acceptable and even left a few ridiculous voicemails about how I was worried, wondering if he was okay.
Nothing. I cringed as I thought of him listening to any one of my three voicemails. Desperate and clingy.
It had only been three weeks since our first date. How had my heart shifted toward him so hard in three weeks?
I typed out another text.
Emma: Grant, things feel off. Are you okay? Are we okay?
I rubbed my forehead and realized I wrote that text a few days ago and got no reply. I sighed and deleted the text.
Was it too early to delete the selfies of us on my phone and hope the attached memories would fade just as easily?
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and wiped my hands down my face. Trying to erase the lines of pain and tears.
Grant had moved on.
I sank deeper into my chair, wishing it could swallow me whole and let me just disappear into nothingness.
The ding of the front door had me sitting up, looking in earnest for a man I already told my heart I didn’t care about. Jane stood at the door, searching for me.
“Over here.” I sighed. She followed the broken sound to find me planted in a chair, and I would only get up when necessary.
“Still nothing?” Her eyebrows creased as she sat in the chair beside me.
“Nope.” I set my phone on the coffee table in front of me so I would stop checking it. “Unless you count a few very short ‘sorry can’t, work’ texts, it’s gone completely silent.”
Jane pinched her lips and tipped her head in thought. “He never did anything or said anything to make you think his feelings had changed?”
I gestured toward my phone. “You are welcome to read the texts, but honestly, I can’t think of anything. The last time we were together was Saturday night. It seemed like all the others.”
“What did you guys do?” Jane’s eyes searched through our last few days of texts.
I closed my eyes, preparing to reopen the wound as we hashed out the exchange again. “We walked around shops at The Village.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We walked under the white twinkle lights, sat by the different fireplaces, and watched the water fountain show.”
“Did he still kiss you and hold your hand?”
“Yep. Literally everything was the same.” I threw my hands in the air. “I can’t figure it out Jane, I’ve tried.”
She handed me my phone and leaned back. “Hm. Does he know how you feel about him?”
“I mean, I thought so.” I stood, no longer able to sit still. “We hadn’t defined ourselves as boyfriend girlfriend or anything, but I thought we were close to it.” I shifted back and forth.
“I mean…maybe it’s all in my head?” I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the oncoming headache. “Maybe work is taking a lot? It just feels like it is very different.”
Jane stood and walked toward me before pulling me into a hug. She stepped back and put her hands on my shoulders. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean?” I stepped back. “I called and I texted. It feels like the ball is in his court.”
“Emma,” Jane pressed her steepled fingers to her mouth. “What if he got scared that his feelings aren’t reciprocated?”
I raised my brows and shook my head. “I doubt it. Based on the make-out we had Saturday, he knew.”
Jane shook her head. “Not necessarily. Actions and words can mean different things for different people.”
“I don’t know…” My throat tightened. “It feels more like he decided to ghost me, versus telling me ‘we’re going in different directions.’” I used air quotes.
“This is the most you have liked someone in years.” She reached to the box of tissues on the coffee table, handing me a tissue to wipe a tear I couldn’t even feel. “But Em, this guy feels different. You feel different.” She stepped back to look me in the eyes. “Are you sure you are willing to walk away without ever knowing?”
I sighed and shook my head. “What would I do? Even if I wanted to see him, he always came to my house. Other than stalking the gym he goes to, I wouldn’t even know how to find him.” I rubbed my temples. “Which has me wondering if he planned on this all along.”
Jane raised her left brow. “You know where he works. If he is busy, go help him.”
I shook my head. “What if I go and he gets in more trouble with Cole?”
She put her hand on her hip. “Surely Cole isn’t always there.”
I sat back down in my seat, feeling the weight of my true fear. “What if I go and he doesn’t want to see me?” I whispered and looked to the ground. “What if he isn’t busy at work, but no longer wants me?”
Jane snapped her fingers. “Girl, if that’s the case, then you deserve WAY more than that, but he needs to put on his big boy pants and tell you.”
I rubbed a hand over my lips. “I don’t know that I want him to.” I melted.
Jane kneeled in front of me. “You need to fight for the people you love and the way you deserve to be treated.” She raised my chin. “He is either drowning in work and will be relieved to see you, or he is a jerk and I hope Cole is there and runs him through the wringer.”
I closed my eyes, needing space between myself and the dangerous idea of going to The Brick House to see for myself how things were between us.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s best to just let it fade and forget. Go back to setting people up. It was far less complicated and painful.”
Jane quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You wish you never felt what it was like to kiss Grant?”
Did I wish I never had that memory? I replayed each kiss and touch. Nope. Even if I was old and single, I would want to remember each brush of his fingers, every kiss.
“Do you wish you never knew how it felt to be held by him? Or the way he validated you and made you feel seen?”
I never wanted to forget that.
I pinched my lips and shook my head. “No.”
Even if it was over, I never wanted to forget the way he made me feel. How he made me believe it was possible to be myself and be loved at the same time.
“Emma, do you think he is worth fighting for or not?” Jane grabbed my shoulders. “Love is like the best piece of cake in the world, and cake like that does not have a shelf life. If you don’t take it, someone else will.”
I bit my bottom lip. I did love cake. I wanted things to work between Grant and me, but I also wanted to make sure he was okay, even if we weren’t.
“Maybe? ”
Jane pulled me into a tight hug. “This is perfect!”
“Whoa.” I held my hands up, “I don’t know, I’m still thinking.”
Jane raised her brows. “Oh, this is happening, and we will make you look so irresistible that he will instantly remember why he misses you or regret that he doesn’t deserve you.”
I took a deep breath and steeled my shoulders. I nodded my head in affirmation. Yes. I would go see him. I would see if he was okay, and then face whether we were done or not.
Jane brought me my favorite high waisted jeans and red top, the ones that showed off my curves in the best way. I refreshed my makeup and hair and rushed out of work.
It was a Wednesday, but most of the Kismet activities didn’t start until after 7 p.m., and it was just past five. I pulled into the parking lot of The Brick House. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs and slowly letting it out.
It would be worth the pain and discomfort to know. To know if Grant was doing okay and to know where we stood.
I stiffened my shoulders and added a layer of Grant’s favorite lip gloss. No reason I shouldn’t put my best foot forward, so to speak. I stepped out of the car and headed to the concrete steps.
Was Jane right?
Was this fighting for us to work?
Or was this just asking for more pain?
Did he already give me my answer?
At least this was me not running. This was me trying. If nothing else, Mom and Jane would be proud.
My hands shook and my heart was racing. I took another breath and pulled open the doors.
The warm wood and metal accents felt familiar but impersonal at the same time. When Grant’s hand was in mine, it felt safe, but standing in the foyer with groups of people hustling about, it felt cold.
I expected the place to be mainly empty. I looked back to the glass double doors. Should I leave?
I heard him—a voice that had felt safe and a lot like home. Grant was facing the other direction in a blue button-up and suit pants and was gesturing to someone in front of him, and based on his shoulders, he was not happy.
This didn’t look like the best time after all. Last chance to run.
I could go back to my car and pretend like I didn’t care.
I did not do my hair for nothing.
Besides, if I did that, then I would never know. I’d always wonder what had caused the sudden shift between us. I steeled my shoulders. I deserved an answer.
I stepped closer. The man Grant was talking to locked eyes with me, eyes that were cold and angry. Darian Cole.
I felt an icy chill run down my spine.
“For some reason, I don’t believe you.” Mr. Cole gestured toward me.
I stepped closer as Grant turned around. His eyes found mine and went from confused to frustrated.
“Maybe if you weren’t spending your time with a certain gold digger, you could actually have a successful business. You would have caught it sooner, and you would have prioritized keeping your client, your only client, happy.” He slapped his hands together causing a sharp sound. Grant flinched. “Your father was right. You’ll never amount to anything because you aren’t willing to do what it takes. I don’t know why I let you convince me to give you a chance.”
“Hey!” I was furious with Grant, but I wasn’t going to let this man sit here and talk to him like that. “Maybe if you weren’t actually a jerk, you wouldn’t have to trick a whole town of single ladies into trying to give you a chance. ”
Mr. Cole stepped to the side, so he had a clear path to me. His fists were clenched, and a vein had started to pulse on his forehead. “You want to say that again?”
I now understood the saying “if looks could kill.” I took a half step back before I reminded myself I wouldn’t let this bully push me around.
Grant stepped over, blocking Cole’s path. “Emma, you need to leave.” He didn’t even care enough to look at me, just yelled over his shoulder.
“I just wanted to see you, I thought you might need help. You said you would call and?—”
“Emma, go. Now,” Grant quipped over his shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t show up at Kismet events.”
I raised my chin higher. “I did, and you said that you wanted to give us a try, and a bunch of work-life balance crap. So, I guess we both lied.”
Jane was wrong. He hadn’t wanted to see me. He had cut contact on purpose.
Darian Cole growled. “Someone ought to teach that woman some manners.”
Grant stiffened and stepped closer to Cole. “Emma, leave. Now.” His voice was sharp—louder than necessary. Angrier than I’d ever heard.
Any hope I’d held on to shattered like glass. I’d tricked myself into believing that Grant would want to see me or at least have an explanation. Instead I was met with his cold anger, and I knew if we had anything previously, it was long gone.
I forced my chin higher, even as my throat tightened. “I know the way out.” My voice didn’t crack, not yet. “Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again.”
I turned, pushing through the double doors before the first tear could fall.
The evening air was cold against my skin, but not as cold as Grant’s dismissal .
My fingers fumbled for my keys; I couldn’t see through the blur of tears. My breath hitched, shallow and frantic. I needed to leave. Now. Before the sob in my throat broke free. I was totally throwing away this outfit. I ran to my car and drove out of the parking lot.
Jane and Mom had been wrong.
I should have never come.
I should have never tried.
I should have never loved.