Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Scott
“I’ll have you start with this one,” I say, unlocking the door to the storage room. It’s on the second floor, directly above the one on the first floor. “The other one is on the third floor, right above where we are now.”
“So every floor has one of these?”
“Yeah. I could’ve rented them out, but I needed the storage for myself.” I open the door and go inside. “I had a house when I lived in California and I didn’t want to just toss everything so I moved it here and threw it into storage.”
“I can’t imagine you with a house,” Trina says, glancing around at the mess.
“Why not?”
“Because you seem to like being independent. A house is a commitment. You have all the upkeep and you’re kind of stuck there until you sell it.”
“You do know I own this building,” I say, joking with her. “It’s a way bigger commitment than a house.”
She smiles. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking of that. But I see the building as an investment. It’s not as personal as a house.” She turns to me. “What did it look like? Do you have pictures?”
“No,” I say, wanting to get off this topic. “I didn’t live there long.”
I don’t like talking about the house. I don’t know why I even mentioned it. I guess because being in this storage room reminds me of it. That’s why I never come in here. These boxes have been here for two years and I haven’t even looked in them. It’s too hard. I’m not ready.
“What’s in here?” Trina asks, opening a plastic bin. She pulls out a label maker. “This could be useful when I get to organizing. Are some of these boxes your office stuff?”
“It’s a lot of different things.” I open a box and pull out a lamp I had in college. “Some of it needs to be tossed, like this lamp.”
“How do I know what to keep and what to toss?”
“Good question.” I sigh as I look at all the boxes. “We might have to do this together. Otherwise, you won’t know what to do with this stuff.”
“Do you have time to work on it?”
“No, but I could make time.”
“When do you want to start?”
“I have a couple of hours free tomorrow. If you want, you could start sorting through it today. Put anything office related on one side and anything home related on the other.”
“Okay. Do you want to show me the one upstairs before I start?”
“No, just focus on this one for now.”
“I can probably only do an hour before I have to leave.”
“That’s fine.”
“How do I track my hours?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just get the job done, and if you feel you didn’t get paid enough at the end, we can talk about it.”
“Sounds good.”
“Here’s the key.” I hand it to her. “I have a spare so you can keep that one. Just call if you need anything.”
I leave the storage room and go down to Cole’s apartment. I knock on the door. He answers wearing his favorite black apron. On the front of it is the logo for the hockey team Cole used to play for, the one he thinks he’ll play for again.
“You want a muffin?” he asks. “They’re almost done.”
“I need to talk to you.” I go into his apartment.
He shuts the door. “I know what you’re going to say and—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I storm up to him. “Whatever reason you give me for why you did it isn’t going to make this better. You had no right to offer her that job!”
“I didn’t offer it to her.” He goes around me to the kitchen. “I just mentioned you were looking for someone.”
“And then suggested Trina was that someone.”
“Yeah? So what’s the big deal?” He takes the muffins from the oven and sets the pan on the counter. “You’ve been saying you want to clean out those storage rooms. Now you have someone to do it.” He looks over at me. “Or did you decide not to hire her?”
“I hired her, but only because she said it would keep her mind off her ex. Maybe that’ll be enough to keep her from going back to him.”
“So that’s why you did it,” Cole says, grinning at me. “So she’ll be thinking about you instead of him.”
“No. That is not why I did it.” I walk over to him. “Where is this coming from? Why are you suddenly obsessed with setting me up?”
“I’m not. I just sense something between you two, like chemistry.”
“Chemistry?” I huff. “She hated me when we met. I think part of her still does. I would not call that chemistry.”
“Then call it a feeling. It’s the same feeling I got when you first met—” He stops himself before saying her name.
“Do not talk about her,” I say, my jaw tightening.
“Come on, Scott.” He takes his oven mitt off and plants his hands on the counter. “When is this going to end?”
“When is what going to end?”
“This stupid rule you have about not talking about her. It made sense right after it happened, but it’s been three years. I should be able to say her name without you looking like you want to kill me.”
Three years? Has it really been that long? I wouldn’t know because I stopped keeping track. When I moved here, I told myself that life didn’t exist. I pretended that guy wasn’t me. And it wasn’t, because I became someone else. Someone who would never be a husband. Never be a father. Those were things I no longer wanted. Instead, I’d focus on my business and helping others achieve their dreams.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “Maybe I should be able to talk about her, but I’m not. And as my friend, you should respect that.”
“I can only do that for so long. There comes a point where you need to start living your life again.”
“You think I’m not living my life? I moved to New York. Bought this building. Started a business. If that’s not moving on, I don’t know what is.”
“You weren’t moving on. You were running away. You didn’t want to be near anything that would remind you of her, so you left and moved across the country, as far away as you could.”
“I wasn’t running away,” I snap. “I saw an opportunity and took it.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says sarcastically. “And what about deciding to never be in a relationship again? Is that your idea of moving on?”
“Not everyone needs to be in a relationship. It’s a personal choice. It has nothing to do with moving on.”
“But you used to want that. You wanted the wife, the kids, the house. You can’t tell me you went from that to wanting to live the rest of your life alone.”
“You really think I want that again?” I say, raising my voice. “After having it and losing it?” I slam my hand on the counter, my eyes locked on Cole. “You have no idea what that’s like. And until you do, you don’t get to tell me to get over it or move on.”
He nods, then looks down.
“And don’t you dare tell Trina about her. You understand?”
“Yeah. Got it.”
I storm out of his apartment, my heart pounding, my muscles tense. I’ve been doing really well, going days without thinking about her. And then Cole mentions her and all those memories come rushing back.
He doesn’t know what it’s like. He has no idea how it feels to have your heart destroyed after a single moment in time. To have all the plans for your life disappear in an instant. That isn’t something you just move past. It doesn’t work that way.
Cole’s crazy if he thinks I’d put myself through that again. Why would I plan my life with someone, knowing it could be taken away? It’s better to be alone and spend my time helping others have the life they want.
Do I want to remember Megan? Of course I do, but it’s too painful. That’s why I sold the house. Sold the company. Left California. Threw out her things. I wanted to wipe that part of my life from my memories.
But it didn’t work. The memories are still there. The best I can do is try not to think about them.
Cole says I should move on. Find someone else. He doesn’t get it. There is no one else.
There was one person for me. And she’s gone.