Chapter 2
It’s him, undeniably.
And yet…this is not the man I knew. This is not the Dominic Harper of six years ago, the man with a rare but genuine grin, the one who carved pumpkins with me or snuck me a kiss when we passed each other on campus. I see it in his eyes.
That Dominic Harper is long gone.
And maybe it’s for the better. Because I’m not the Reese Berkeley I used to be, either, a silly dreamer, a people pleaser who loved love more than reality.
The smile slips from his lips when our eyes meet. Of course it does—he’ll probably never smile at me again. His gaze widens, like I know mine has.
It hurts. Seeing him hurts.
“Hi,” I say, except it’s more of a choking sound issuing from the back of my throat.
But this is me flying by the seat of my pants, figuring out what to say as I go, and it was never going to be pretty. I’d like to think I’m the kind of woman who can stay composed—he’s just an ex-boyfriend, after all—but…
He isn’t just an ex-boyfriend. He’s the ex-boyfriend. And because neither of us were stupid enough to think we could stay friends after we broke up, we didn’t.
I’m not sure I know this person.
Dominic’s expression has gone blank, and when he gives me a nod of greeting, it’s awkward and tense.
He doesn’t meet my gaze, for which I’m grateful, because my pupils have been replaced by black holes of pure panic.
For a second I think he’s not even going to speak.
I stare at him, a landscape I used to paint daily, a home I haven’t returned to for years, familiar become strange.
When he finally opens his mouth, however, I blink.
“You have a little something right here,” he says quietly, pointing to the corner of his mouth. Then he slides off his barstool as easily as he slid on and walks away, tucking himself into the booth that’s as far from me as he can get.
I gape after him in indignation, lasers I direct at the back of his head. Yes, I was staring, but I wasn’t drooling.
No one ever hurt me as much as Dominic, because no one ever had enough of me to do so much damage.
But I swallow that hurt now and whirl around to face forward again.
My legs twitch, my muscles itching to run, run, run away from him, but I refuse to be so weak.
I clench my hands instead, my thoughts spinning as memories try to claw their way from the vault where I’ve stored them.
I slam the vault shut. There will be none of that today, thank you very much.
I should have worn the freaking waterproof mascara. I should have brought an inhaler. Why am I having a hard time breathing? Why is there a weight on my chest, trying to crush my ribs?
Do I have asthma?
“Hal,” I all but gasp to the bartender. He pops up as though he’s been waiting for me, and when I gurgle at him for a glass of water, he nods. Thirty seconds later he plunks the cup down in front of me, and I drink half of it on the spot.
The cheerful jingle of a bell sounds through the bar again, and when a gust of wind hits the back of my neck, I know it must be my mother.
I gulp in all the oxygen I can find in this oxygenless place, again and again until my head no longer spins.
A second later I’m proven correct when I hear the clicking of heels coming closer.
“Hello, sweetheart,” my mother says from behind me. “Sit up straight; you’re not a rag doll.”
I do not sit up straight. Because although it’s not exactly what happened, I do feel like a rag doll, loved and worn and then discarded.
“Hi,” I say instead, in a strangled voice that I’m desperately trying to fix. I’m here for Alvina, not an ex from years ago. I look over my shoulder toward the entrance, where the door is swinging shut. After two very casual, very normal breaths, I say, “Did you come alone?”
“He’s on his way,” Alvina says nonchalantly. She settles herself on the stool next to mine with an ease that would be surprising if you didn’t know her. Then she drops her purse on the bar top and waves at Hal. “Hal, darling, I’d like to order, please.”
I can’t stop myself from looking her over as she talks to Hal.
A rush of relief hits me when I see how different our outfits are.
I’m in my favorite overalls and a sweater, half my hair hanging over my shoulders while the other half is in a careless bun on top of my head.
My mother, on the other hand, is highly overdressed as per usual; she’s wearing a flouncy skirt, a soft blouse, and heels that could take out an eye.
Her hair is a brown that’s no longer natural, several shades darker than mine, but the dye job is perfect, and it’s twisted into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck.
A pair of sunglasses that are presumably very expensive are propped on top of her head, and while she gesticulates toward the menu, her rings and bracelet glint in the light.
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care if we look different or similar. But I do.
And I know it’s partly because Dominic is here. Maybe even watching me right now.
A painful memory flashes through my head, words we said to each other that could never be unspoken—and a quiet, damning suggestion that still haunts me.
You realize you’re just like her, don’t you?
The migraine that’s been forming behind my eye begins to throb more painfully as I bite back tears.
I’m not like Alvina. I’m nothing like her. I blink forcefully, just in time for my mother to turn back and look at me. Her penciled gaze gives my face a quick once-over, and then she frowns.
“You should never wear these in public,” she says as her red lips curl down. She points to the corner of her mouth, the same place Dominic pointed to his. “They’re meant to be worn overnight, you know.”
With a frown of my own, I reach to my face and brush my thumb over the spot—
Only to find the pimple patch I forgot to take off when I got up this morning.
After I excuse myself from next to my mother and rush to the bathroom, I spend a full minute staring at that pimple patch on my face. Then, once I peel it off and die a thousand deaths knowing Dominic saw it, I wash my hands and step out the back door for some fresh air.
I just need to breathe. Normal, regular air that does not smell like my mother’s perfume or Dominic’s cologne or even the delicious maple scent that permeates the bar. So I slip out and sit down on the curb, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
“Dominic,” I murmur to myself. Even the pimple patch snafu can only live in my mind for so long when it’s competing with Dom’s reappearance.
I knew I would run into him, obviously. But what are the chances it would happen while I was sitting here stressing about it? Is he psychic? Is this town playing a joke on me?
You’re going to have to give him the letter now.
The little voice in my head is grudging but firm, and I sigh.
It’s true; I have a note ready and waiting for him, and although I dread handing it over, part of me is excited too.
That letter is my best and final attempt at owning up to my part in where things went wrong.
Apologizing for the things I need to apologize for.
It’s the key that will lock the door to the past for good.
No loose ends left, no unsaid words. Just me trying to let it all go and get on with my life.
I should probably figure out how to breathe normally first. It doesn’t help that my heart still knows how important he was to me back then. My pulse hasn’t totally calmed down, and the knot in the back of my throat lingers.
My phone is out of my jacket pocket and in my hand two seconds later, because I need to tell someone about this or I’m going to explode.
Me
SOS
I repeat, SOS!
It takes my best friends a full minute to respond, but I forgive them because their lives are crazy right now too.
Liv
What’s wrong?
Do you need me to come get you?
I can be wherever you are in ten minutes, twenty tops if my bodyguard shadow is weird about the speed limit.
Me
I love you so much.
And I don’t even know.
I just ran into Dominic.
Ari
!!!
How did it go?
Me
I had a pimple patch on my face and didn’t realize it.
Liv
Oh boy.
Ari
If it makes you feel better, a lot of my students wear them!
During the day, out in public and everything.
Me
Is that something people do now? Guys, are we OLD?
Well, it does not make me feel better.
But thank you for trying.
Only a few people in this world aside from me and Dom actually know we once dated: Liv, Ari, Dominic’s sister Rosie, and maybe a friend or two of his.
I didn’t tell anyone else because frankly, who would I tell?
Not Alvina, definitely. She was going through her divorce from Post-Dad Husband One at the time.
She would have sniffed, teared up, and then said something dramatic and passive-aggressive like “I’m sorry my love isn’t enough for you.
” I wasn’t super close to my roommates, either.
It was easier to keep it to myself. I’m glad I have Liv and Ari to talk to now, though.
When my phone buzzes with a text from Alvina asking what’s taking me so long, I say goodbye to my friends and then tuck my phone back in my pocket, standing slowly and stretching my legs. I take a few more deep breaths, looking at the world around me.
And even though my day feels topsy turvy, even though Dominic Harper is right inside and my mother is trying to date the entire state of Vermont…
it’s only a few moments before I start feeling better.
Because if there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that this place will always soothe my soul.
Even when I’m buckling under stress, or when I’m panicking and anxious.
I can see the white steeple of the church over the tops of yellow trees, leaves rustling faintly in the perfect autumn breeze.
They’ll be turning brilliant orange and red any day now, and we’ll get floods of leaf-peepers coming to see the change.
It’s already begun. The late afternoon air is heavy with the humidity, and it smells like the rain we’re supposed to get this evening.