Chapter 32 – Beck
BECK
Checking my phone a million times does nothing to help my anxiety. But it’s been half a day since I said goodbye to Rosie on the ferry. And since I signed the papers and sent her that text.
My brain is buzzing with all the scenarios where Rosie and I don’t end up together. But despite how bruised and battered my heart is, it’s still holding on to a shred of hope that our love is enough.
My head is too fuzzy I can’t go home. I go to Milo’s and sit in during rehearsal with his band.
It’s only somewhat of a distraction. I head to Seashell Bookshop next and grab a coffee.
Consuming caffeine isn’t the best idea when my anxiety is at an all-time high.
Now I’m not just pacing the streets distressed, but I’m jittery as well.
I debate texting Dr. Sam. My heart feels as if it’s cracking in half and my limbs are heavy.
But as I walk by Peace of Cake, I see Daisy through the window where she’s standing behind the counter.
The weathered door sticks and rubs as I yank it open and step inside.
It’s been a while since I was here. Daisy and I have always been friends, but after we went on that date a few years back, things have been awkward between us.
“Beck?” Daisy calls and I spin, for some reason feeling caught.
“Hey, Daisy. How’s it going?”
She frowns, her brows pinching together as her blue eyes rake over me.
My gaze drops to the display case, and I peruse the specialty cupcakes and small cakes, each one intricately decorated. “I’m just…I’m…” I don’t even know what I’m doing here. “I’m looking for a cupcake,” I lie.
Her lips tip to one side as she considers this. “You haven’t stepped foot in here for what—three years?”
Has it been that long since that godawful date? We were such good friends; we never should’ve agreed to it in the first place. But Stella and Jack had us convinced we’d be perfect for each other. Except we weren’t. Far from it.
Because my soulmate is currently contemplating spending the rest of her life with another man. And Daisy’s soulmate up and ditched her and this town before the ink was dry on his high school diploma. Christian never wanted the small-town life. Always had dreams of something bigger.
“Has it been that long?” I scratch at the scruff on my chin. When my finger slips into the indent of my dimple, Charlie springs to my mind.
“Yep. Do you need me to refresh your memory? Because I can show you the spot where we made out in the back after our date and you left my ass with floured handprints?”
When I don’t react, she snickers. “I’m kidding. Geez. You all right?” She’s frowning at me again.
“Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to get rid of the jumbled mess inside of it. “And I’m sorry again…about that night.”
“Seriously?” She lifts her brows. “It’s been three years. You think I’m still stressing over that? I mean, you’re a good kisser and all, but I knew we weren’t vibing.”
I nod along with her as she talks. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been by for a while.”
“Three years,” she reminds me. “You’re the one who made it awkward.”
“I did. You’re right. We’re friends, I shouldn’t have let that disastrous date ruin our friendship.”
She eyes me again. “Beck, are you okay?”
My head continues to whirl, the colorful cupcakes spinning and blurring. The voices around me grow louder.
“Is it Rosie? You and Rosie?”
At the mention of her name, I whip my head up and look at Daisy. “Have you heard from her?”
“Not since she got back a few days ago.” She puts up a finger to her customers and waves me to the end of the display case where she meets me. “Is she okay? Is Charlotte okay?”
“Yeah, I think so…I don’t know what I’m doing,” I mutter. Heat sears my skin as my heart gallops in my chest. Sweat bubbles at my temples and trickles down the center of my back.
She touches my arm. “Why don’t you sit down. You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. I gotta go.” Taking a few steps backward, I crash into a customer and whip around.
“I’m so sorry.” I rush to the door and bump my hip into it, gulping in the balmy afternoon air.
It does little to soothe my feverish skin.
There’s a bench in front of the surf shop.
I shuffle toward it and plop down the second I reach it.
Pinching my eyes tight, I plant my feet flat on the ground and shove away my surroundings. The pounding of my heart and erratic breathing drown out the sounds from the busy street and shops but also amplifies them at the same time. They whir in my ears, and my head feels detached from my body.
Bringing my hands together, I interlock my fingers, and the touch of my own skin centers me and gives me something to focus on.
A smidge of light peeks through the blackness haze of my vision and sends a signal to my brain that I need to breathe.
It takes several long moments before I’m able to implement Dr. Sam’s breathing techniques.
After my heart slows and I finally open my eyes, I sit back, my clammy skin cool when I make contact with the bench.
Locals carry their purchases out of the shop behind me.
Vacationers haul rented surfboards toward the beach to one side of me, and they pass on rented bikes going in the opposite direction.
I pull out my phone and check for new texts from Rosie. Nothing. I open my email and in my sent folder, I find the document I’d been ignoring for the last year. I stare at my electronic signature and initials.
The reality hits me like a blow to my gut.
It’s really over.