Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
IT’S THE MOST PAIN I’VE EVER FELT
Connor
“I already have dinner reservations for tonight.” Forty-five minutes into the two-hour drive from Phoenix to Sedona, Gretchen finally speaks. “It’s some place my mom found online. I thought it’d be nice.”
“I’m sure it will be,” I say, checking my blind spot to change lanes. “What kind of restaurant is it?”
“A steakhouse, I think. They have a dress code, but I know you probably packed in a rush so we don’t have to go if you?—”
“Drew told me. I’m all set.” I chance a quick glance her way and only manage to catch her gaze briefly before she looks away.
“Oh. Well, okay. Good.”
Silence consumes the car again, the hum of tires over pavement grating like nails on a chalkboard.
Gretchen’s intent gaze is locked to her passenger window, fingers knotted in her lap.
It takes everything in me to not reach across the console and grab her hand to reassure her that, despite everything, I’m still her friend.
At least, I want to be .
It’s too early to force an unwanted conversation, so I roll my neck to relieve some of the tension and turn up the volume on the radio. Not five minutes later, Gretchen’s asleep—head on her hand, elbow propped on the window.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it free and see Lauren’s name flashing on my screen. On a quiet sigh, I silence it and drop it in the cupholder.
Another conversation with Lauren feels inevitable now, but hell if I know what I’m supposed to say. I’m certainly not going to try and figure it out with Gretchen two feet away.
When we’re about fifteen minutes from the resort, Gretchen stirs, groggily stretching her arms out in front of her. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”
She stifles a yawn. “Sorry. I was up at four this morning.”
“No worries. We’re almost there.”
She offers no response, only turns back to the view outside her window.
When silence threatens to take over the car again, I can’t help myself. I want her to talk to me, dammit .
I turn the music down. “When are you planning to go back to New York?” She turns to me with a bewildered expression, like she forgot I was here. Like her mind was a million miles away. Not gonna lie, level ten hurt right there.
She gives her head a quick shake and says, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked when you’re planning to go back to New York.”
“Oh, um…I’m not sure.” She twists her hands in her lap. “The company I interned at has a position available that I’m applying for. Interviews are in a couple of weeks. I suppose if that goes well, I could move back before the end of summer.”
“That’s awesome. I’m sure you’ll do great.” She shrugs. “You don’t think you’ll get it?”
“I don’t know. My boss really liked me and she’s the one who recommended me for it, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”
“What company is it?” I’ve missed so much of her life.
Her ups and downs. Her accomplishments. Her.
The Connor of Gretchen’s past wouldn’t need to ask.
I’d have known all there is to know. She’d have texted to tell me all about it and then we would have FaceTimed for an hour to talk about it some more.
There’s that ache again.
“Saks Fifth Avenue.”
An incredulous huff tumbles out of me. “Are you for real? Gretch, that’s amazing!”
One corner of her mouth curves up before she rakes her lower lip between her teeth. “Have you ever even been inside a Saks?”
“Um, excuse me,” I say, feigning outrage. “I may be a dude, but I don’t live under a rock. Yes, I’ve been inside a Saks, Gretchen.”
A broad smile spreads across her face as a genuine laugh pulls from her chest. Thank God . The way my heart constricts and softens at the same time leaves no room for misunderstanding—it still belongs to her.
“Buying a gift for a woman, I’m sure,” she teases.
My phone buzzes.
I sneak a quick look—Lauren’s name lights up my screen again. I decline the call, flip the phone around and pretend Gretchen didn’t see me send my ex’s call to voicemail.
“What makes you so sure of that?” I ask in hopes of breezing past the interruption.
“I’ve studied fashion for four years, worked alongside the buyer for menswear at Saks for an entire semester, and I’ve seen what you wear, Connor.”
“I can’t decide if I should be impressed or offended.” I eye her sidelong before I force my gaze back to the road.
She snickers. “Your wardrobe is fine, but I can tell you don’t shop at Saks.”
The joggers and t-shirt I have on are nothing special and I’m sure my baseball cap isn’t doing my unruly hair any favors, but I changed clothes in a panic earlier.
Between packing my suitcase, absorbing all the travel details that Drew was relaying and booking my flight via speakerphone, I didn’t pay much attention to how I looked.
“Come on,” she goads. “It’ll feel so much better to admit it. ”
I rub a hand along my jaw. My smirk wants to run full tilt when I glance over and find shrewd glee written all over her face, but I tame it into submission. “Lauren ordered a pair of shoes and I picked them up for her,” I finally concede.
“There it is,” she says with a satisfied expression before her grin settles into a thin line. “You don’t have to ignore her calls just because I’m around.”
I take in a steadying breath before I answer, “It’s not that.” I blink slowly once as though it’ll erase the shame. It doesn’t. “We haven’t spoken since the break-up.”
The voice of the GPS guide mercifully interrupts the moment, directing me to the next exit. I roll the car to a stop at a red light at the end of our exit ramp and a weighty silence settles in as we take in the scenery.
The sun is still a few hours from setting and we’re far from the urban landscape of Phoenix now.
The view outside is no longer bustling highways, office buildings and sprawling neighborhoods.
Now, it’s nothing but the orange-pink glow of the sun cast down upon the red-toned desert mesas in the distance.
Gretchen’s the first one to speak, voice cautious and soft. “Drew seemed really upset with you about the breakup.”
I let out an exhausted breath. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine.” I remove my hat and rake a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends as the light turns green. “Drew was kind of blindsided by the whole thing. I get why he’s upset.”
Warily, I meet her gaze. There’s no malice or judgment to be found in the soft lines of her face, only a sort of watchful concern as she waits for me to go on.
I slide my hat back on, my other hand wound tight on the steering wheel. “Things with Lauren were more complicated than he ever knew.”
Gretchen looks at me like I’m a puzzle she can’t figure out. “How so?”
Sighing, I bolster myself for my confession. The resort looms as we draw closer. “I, um…I thought I loved her, but…” My voice trails off. There’s no good way to end that sentence.
“But you were together for two and a half years,” she says.
Guilt clamps around my vocal cords as I whisper, “I know.”
We scan the property as I turn into the parking area.
Several burnt sienna colored stucco structures are laid out in front of us.
Blending perfectly into the red-hued natural horizon of rock mesas beyond, the separate buildings designate the lobby from the spa and guest rooms and private villas.
Cacti and desert ground cover make up the patches of landscape around and between each of the buildings.
If one could ever consider a sweltering desert a paradise, this would be it.
Once I find a parking spot, I turn off the engine and shift to face Gretchen. The curious look in her eyes tells me we’re not done with this conversation.
“Why would you date somebody for that long if you didn’t love them?”
I roll the car keys over in my hand. A queasy feeling rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. “I really thought I did.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, it’s like I tried so hard to convince myself it was true that I eventually started to believe it.”
Like a hostage, Gretchen holds my stare. “So, you loved her once and fell out of love, or you never loved her at all?”
“It didn’t…it…it never felt the way it was supposed to feel.” It never felt like it did with you. “I know it was some form of love, but I wasn’t in love with her.”
The moment I realized Lauren wasn’t it for me is a memory I’ve tried countless times to forget.
It had been six months since we had exchanged I love yous .
Lauren and I were at Drew and Reagan’s place playing Cards Against Humanity.
Everything was great—bellies full, tons of laughter.
Lauren’s hand was on my thigh and mine was on her nape, massaging her neck.
Our friends darted off to the kitchen for another round of beers.
Lauren leaned in to whisper something in my ear, but I didn’t hear a word because my gaze was caught on my best friend and his wife across the apartment .
Drew came up behind Reagan and she turned to meet him. He smiled down at her and she melted into him. The two beer bottles she’d been holding were set aside as my best friend wrapped the love of his life in a hug and swayed back and forth four, five, six times.
For those twenty seconds, it was like nothing else existed.
Lauren and I weren’t there. The stresses of work, family and finances were forgotten.
It was just the two of them, dancing to no music at all, barefoot in their kitchen.
And there I was, sitting next to the woman I supposedly loved and I couldn’t picture anything like that with her.
I should have ended it then. Instead, I spent the next year trying to force a square peg into a round hole.
Gretchen inhales deeply, rolls her lips and brings one leg up on the seat as she turns to face me.
“Are you gonna say anything?” I finally ask.
“I’m not sure you wanna hear what I have to say.” Her voice is gentle, but the words hit like a sledgehammer.
“I never should have let it go on as long as I did but I don’t know…I…” Thoughts fade in and out of focus as Gretchen glares at me, arms crossed. “I didn’t want to hurt her and I know how dumb that sounds because the longer I waited, the more it hurt her in the end. I know I messed up.”
“So, what? You’re gonna ignore her calls forever?” Her edged words slice through me, hitting their mark.
“No,” I sigh.
“No?”
“No, Gretchen. I’m not!” My growing frustration is unwarranted because I know I’m in the wrong, but I can’t help but feel a little defensive.
As if she’s read my mind, she responds in kind, accusations launched like arrows landing bullseye every time.
“That woman gave you two and a half years of her life. I was at that dinner. I saw it. She loves you. She was probably expecting a proposal from you. Then you dump her out of nowhere and you can’t even answer her calls? ”
That flicker of hope I’d been clinging to, that we could maybe restore our friendship and, perhaps with time, it might turn into more, dies in an instant. She looks at me like I’m a stranger and it sucks the air from my lungs, suffocating that ember to ash.
Why would she give me another chance? A man who, for all intents and purposes, led someone on for over two years. The same man who had the only woman he’s ever truly wanted in his arms three years ago—the only woman whose lips have ever felt like home—and walked away.
I left Gretchen there. I never called. I never texted.
Regret strangles any defense I have left. When I don’t respond, she continues. “She needs closure, Connor. You owe her that.”
I absorb the cruel truth of her reprimand. “You’re right.”
This isn’t how I expected things to start off between us.
I was so hung up on mending things with Gretchen, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
But I see it now. The big picture beyond the details.
I can’t make things right with Gretchen without giving my relationship with Lauren the proper closure it— she —deserves.
“You’re awfully wise for all of your twenty-two years,” I say, hoping to break the tension.
“You mean almost twenty-two years. I’ve still got a few days left.” She preens with a dainty hand under her chin. The face scrunch and the constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose highlight the hint of mischief glimmering in her eyes.
Damn, she’s so pretty.
“My mistake. Almost twenty-two. Still, though, you’re not supposed to be better at relationships than me. I’m almost twenty-nine.” I mirror her playful expression.
She lets out a mirthless laugh that punches me straight in the gut.
Her body turns away and it takes every bit of humor with it.
She grabs the purse at her feet and says, “I actually don’t know much about relationships.
But I know how much it hurts to not get closure.
” Door open, she moves to get out of the car but stops with one leg still inside.
She turns her profile on me, but doesn’t meet my eyes.
“I think it’s the most pain I’ve ever felt. ”
Gretchen climbs out of the car and doesn’t look back, leaving me alone with nothing but karma and regret to keep me company.