40. Miles
MILES
I spend all of Sunday surfing. I don’t know what else to do to take my mind off Jenna and how much I royally fucked everything up.
The ocean used to be my place of solace, where I’d go to clear my head.
But since I’ve shared it with Jenna, I can’t do that anymore.
It’s too painful; memories of her bobbing on her board, smiling over at me, her expression open and trusting.
She trusted me to teach her how to surf and to keep her safe and she trusted me with her heart, and I let her down.
Floating on my board before riding the next big wave is no longer soothing but tainted by the fear that I’ve lost Jenna forever.
“I’m so stupid,” I mutter to myself.
That doesn’t stop me from trying though.
I surf for hours in the icy waves, chasing that rush of adrenaline—feeling momentarily better when I catch it.
Time and time again, my ocean and my beach have been there for me.
When I’m pissed off or sad, I come here, and I fight it out with Mother Nature.
A knock down, drag out reckoning of my own creation.
The sky turns pink and purple as dusk approaches.
I glance at my watch, wanting to catch the first stars tonight, but my body is depleted.
The cold November air and the havoc I just wreaked on my body causes convulsions as I hurriedly throw a towel around my shoulders.
So much for seeing the stars tonight. I tuck my board under my arm and head toward my car.
I’m stepping out of my wet suit and into some sweatpants when my phone buzzes.
I tried to forget my phone—and the fact Jenna hadn’t responded to any of my messages while I was surfing.
Most of this is of my own doing, I know that.
Keeping that secret from Jenna—and then her finding out after seeing Erin at my front door—that’s all on me.
I hate myself for hurting her. I just hope I didn’t ruin things with us forever
I climb into the driver’s seat and tug a hoodie over my head. I turn on the car and blast the heat to seventy-six degrees before looking at my phone. Jenna’s name illuminates my screen.
Bile rises in my throat. I’m sweating, despite the chill in the air. I have a sinking feeling that this text isn’t going to be good. I take a breath, willing myself to calm down and tap on the text.
Jenna:
Miles, I think it’s better if we let things cool off for a bit. Maybe Nate should handle my house stuff from here on out.
“No!” I slam my palm into the steering wheel. “Damnit,” I mutter. I knew it. I lost her.
My chest caves in and the exhaustion overwhelms me. I don’t even have it in me to text her back and fight for her. I can’t believe I ruined this. I throw the car in reverse and peel out of the lot. Without Jenna, nothing else matters.
I’m late for work the next morning. I arrive just after ten, catching sight of my reflection in the glass windows.
I didn’t look in the mirror once this morning.
I know I look like hell—I didn’t sleep. My T-shirt is rumpled, my jeans are dirty, and my hair is stiff like straw from the salt water.
I brought Pete to work today because I feel bad for ignoring him yesterday, but even he is looking at me with pity.
I swing open the door and our assistant Linda gasps, covering her mouth.
“Dude,” Nate deadpans. “Why do you look like your dog died?”
I scoff, raking my fingers through my hair. “He didn’t die. He’s right here. Aren’t you Pete?” I look down at my apathetic dog who plopped at my feet the second we walked through the door.
“Miles, dear, are you okay?” Linda’s brow furrows with concern.
“I’m fine.” I wave my hand casually, walking over to my desk.
“You look terrible, bro,” Nate states the obvious. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I scowl at him. “This is my business, too. I can show up to work however I want.” I pull out my desk chair and flump into it, crossing my arms indignantly.
“I’m going to get us some coffees.” Linda announces. She pushes back in her chair and hurriedly makes for the coat rack.
“There’s plenty of coffee in the back, Linda.” Nate juts his thumb over his shoulder.
“I’ll just give you boys a minute.” Linda smiles tightly, slipping into her coat, and then she’s out the door.
When she’s gone, Nate whirls his chair around to face me. “Dude, what happened? Why do you look like this?”
I heave out a heavy sigh. “Jenna and I broke up. I think.” I slump forward on the desk and bury my face in my hands.
Nate lets out a sympathetic sigh. “Oh man. She found out about her dad before you could tell her, didn’t she?”
I lift my head, glancing sideways at him. “Yeah,” I mutter. “And…”
“And?” Nate raises his eyebrows expectantly.
“Erin showed up at the condo the day after I told Jenna I love her,” I grumble.
Nate lets out a low whistle. “That’s bad.” He nods, lips pursed.
“I know,” I growl, agitated again. I’m going back and forth between exhausted, defeated, and irritated.
Nate pushes his lips together, narrowing his eyes. “So, what did Erin want and how did Jenna find out about her dad?”
I groan and then recount everything that happened on Saturday. When I finish, Nate gapes at me. He lets out his second low whistle in ten minutes.
“Yeah, this isn’t great for you.” He turns back to his computer. “I’m not really sure I have any helpful advice but dude, I saw the way that girl looks at you. I know you can make things right.”
“I’m not so sure,” I mutter. “Oh, and she said it’s best if you handle the sale of her house.” I shake my head, dragging my hand down my face. “Man, I really fucked this up.”
Nate turns back to me. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know you’re not going to get her back looking like that.” Nate wrinkles his nose. “Go home, bro. Take a shower. The right thing will come to you. It’ll be okay.”
I frown, then a light bulb goes off. “I know! I’ll make her a playlist.”
Nate lets out a puff of air. “Bro. That’s not exactly what I meant. Go get some rest, will you? Come back tomorrow.”
I catch my reflection in the dark computer screen that I haven’t bothered to turn on. “Fine. You’re right.” I push in my chair and put my jacket back on. “Let’s go, Pete.”
Before heading home, I stop by Sunset Blooms. I used to pop in here every Friday to surprise Erin with wildflowers.
It got to the point where my bouquet was ready before I even called.
Not because I wanted to bring her flowers all the time, but because I was trying to make her stay.
Even before she said it, I think she had one foot out the door.
I would have tried anything to make her happy.
Flowers didn’t work for Erin, but maybe they will for Jenna.
I park and check my reflection in the rearview mirror before I go in.
I run my fingers through the mop on my head and slap my cheeks to wake up.
Then I jog inside. Tina, the owner, is about ten years older than me, and she’s a genius with flowers.
I could call her with any budget and she’d put together a beautiful arrangement.
“Miles!” Tina greets me with a broad smile that quickly falls when she sees my face. She recovers quickly though. “I haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you in?”
I sigh, defeated. “I need a bouquet that says I’m a giant asshole and I’m so incredibly sorry. Can you make me something?”
Tina grimaces. “Yikes. What did you do?” She starts puttering around at the various flowers in buckets and tubes behind her, gathering the prettiest ones.
“It’s a long story,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed, even though I don’t need to be.
Tina turns back to me and her expression is reassuring. “Well, whatever it is. I’m sure you’ll make it right, Miles.”
“Thanks, Tina.” I pull out my wallet and lean on the counter. “Do you have a card I can write in?”