I dare him to cross my path because of the way he single-handedly ripped us apart.
But Sean and Dominic allowed it—and to me—that is unforgivable.
These grudges I hold close, they keep me objective, in hindsight. They also keep me angry and resentful—all tools I need for forward progress. One day, when I don’t need the anger, I’ll forgive them for the way they hurt me, for myself. But it’s not happening any time soon.
Shaking my head, I concentrate on my eyes, going heavy on my mascara. My headspace is all wrong for this, and I know it. But I need this last step. I need to get back out there.
I’ve stopped waiting for ‘one day’ in exchange for a ‘someday’ and ‘some other.’
And maybe that ‘some other’ is Wesley.
My phone rattles with an incoming message on the vanity, and I buzz Wesley in, opting not to give him the gate code. Lesson learned on that front.
Filled with anticipation, I take the stairs in a new curve-hugging halter dress my favorite shop owner helped me pick out. Primed for possibility, I run my fingers through my hair as I reach the door.
I just want to laugh again without the sad pause of recollection at the end of it. Without erasing from my present by lingering in the past. I just want to feel some sort of closeness again, one that has nothing to do with the men who refuse to exit my dreams, the way they have my life. More than that, I want to see if I’m capable of feeling a flutter, an inkling, any sign of life other than acknowledging the beating my heart has taken.
Just knowing there is a chance will be enough.
“Please,” I whisper to anyone listening. “Just a jolt, a whisper, something,” I plea just as Wesley pulls up and steps out of his truck. It’s when his brown eyes rake over me and flare before he flashes me a set of perfect teeth, that I know, for me, the date is already over.
Nothing.
That’s what I felt. Absolutely nothing. Not during dinner, and not now when Wesley takes my hand in his while walking me back to his truck. Not a flutter, nor a single ounce of anticipation when he opens the passenger door and gently pushes my hair away from my face before leaning in.
That gesture triggers me, and I turn my head at the last second, unable to bear it. It isn’t Sean’s caress, and they aren’t Dominic’s lips. Wesley dips his chin and looks over to me.
“You’ve been hurt?”
“I’m sorry. I thought I was ready.”
“It’s okay. Just…I felt like you weren’t really with me when I was talking at dinner, and I couldn’t shut the fuck up.”
“It’s not you…” I cringe and know shooting him would have been more merciful by the change in his expression.
He has the good grace to chuckle. “Ouch.”
I want to crawl beneath his truck. Instead, he helps lift me into the cab and leans in. “It’s okay, Cecelia, I’ve been there.”
I gaze over at him, guilt-ridden. “I’ll pay for my half of dinner.”
“Just how much do you intend on insulting me tonight? And what kind of assholes have you been dating?”
Unforgettable assholes with a side of motherfucker.
“I wouldn’t blame you at this point if you make me take a cab home.”
“You’re painfully honest, but I like that.” He bites his lip, his eyes lifting to mine. “Painfully beautiful, too. I’ll just be flattered that I was your first attempt. And maybe,” he shrugs, “we can try again sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
We both know it’s a lie, but I rest easier in it as I click my seat belt while he rounds his truck. A silence ensues when he joins me, messing with his radio on our ride back. I’m thankful when he finally speaks up. “So, was it someone from around here?”
“No. It’s just some asshole I dated back home in Georgia.” The lies are getting easier to tell. But the truth is not an option.
Wesley leaves me at my front door with a friendly hug and an offer to call him when I’m ready. As he drives off, I curse my faithful heart and slam the front door aggravated with myself.
Disheartened, I haul myself up the stairs and into my bedroom. Sliding my sandals off, I pull my cell out of my purse and shoot off a message to Christy.
Project Get On With It was a complete failure.
Christy: Don’t give up, babe. Whoever it is will be a Band-Aid right now anyway.
I’m still not ready.
Christy: Then you’re not ready. Don’t rush it. You’ll get there.
What’s going on with you tonight?