“That’s because I just spent a hundred dollars on my hair.” She runs her hand through it. “And don’t BS me. You just left without a word. I was so worried about you. And when you didn’t come back for your father’s—” She reads my expression and falters.
“I’m sorry, I had some personal things come up and just took off.”
“Are you staying long?”
“For a little while. Not long.”
She lights up. “Well, we have a wedding in the family coming up. You remember my little niece, Cassie? She’s getting married! Can you believe she’s so grown up? Seems like just yesterday I was telling you about her baptism.” As always, she easily sorts through her phone and lifts a picture.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She is, and he’s so handsome. Are you doing anything right now? Come on, let’s have lunch.”
Searching the street for any sign of Ryan, I come up empty.
“Sure.”
Her eyes light up.
“Perfect, I know just the place.” We walk Main Street, Valentine’s decorations in almost every glass storefront, remnants of early morning snow beneath our booted feet.
Dizzied by her conversation, she guides me into a restaurant as she tells me about an upcoming play she’s in. Once seated, a basket of bread is placed before us, along with two glasses of water and a menu. It’s when I see the logo on the front of it that my heart stops—The Pitt Stop.
“You catchin’ feelings, Pup?”
I trace the letters with my finger and look up past Melinda’s shoulder as she rattles on about the plant. Rows and rows of pictures of the Roberts family line the walls, and I strain to study each one; when I manage to find one of Sean in his early twenties, arms crossed as he leans against his Nova, his hazel eyes shining as he smiles for the camera.
My heart explodes into rhythm as my eyes begin to burn. Melinda reads my expression. She glances around and then back at me.
“Oh, honey, I wasn’t thinking, I really wasn’t. Are you okay being here? I guess I should have asked, but by the size of the rock you’re sporting on your finger, it looks like you moved on and moved on well.”
I glance down at the diamond on my finger. It’s a little ostentatious in size, but all I see when I look at it is the love in his eyes when Collin presented me with it at our company Christmas party. Before I can answer, a young waitress takes our drink order. I rattle off iced tea and unable to resist, I stand and tell Melinda I need to use the restroom.
I spend the better part of ten minutes studying the walls, every glimpse of him excruciating. He got his looks from his mother mostly, his build, and smile from his father.
Years of photos of my first love line the walls, from little league to his prom along with family shots with celebrities who’ve dined here over the years. I search and search for recent photos and find none, knowing they’re in the restaurant somewhere, and cursing the fact that I’ll be obvious if I search for them. I hadn’t flinched when Tobias told me he was married, but I felt it. And the knowledge now feels like nails dragging across my chest.
Sean has a wife and two children. He married. He moved on as he should’ve.
I am happy for him. And a little jealous.
It’s hypocritical, but I am. I only want to remember the time when he was mine. It’s my God-given right not to know how happy he is.
No matter how unconventional, we had something good until everything went to hell. I was in love with him, until he was ripped away from me.
The dreams that I have that star him are sometimes the hardest. The love I had for him was pure and untainted. I don’t know how to measure love in totality. I only know how to love them individually. But the love that I feel for Tobias is too hard to separate from any other man. My contempt for him exceeds any other as well.
I search one more wall, simply for the capability of acceptance and come up empty. Maybe it’s best I don’t see them.
Old wounds threaten as I wash my hands and meet Melinda back at the table and dine with a lump in my throat.
I’m a creep.
I shouldn’t be here.
But I can’t pull myself away. So, I pick at my food, I listen to Melinda talk, and when we check out at the register, that lump turns into a boulder. Over the cashier’s shoulder is a picture of a little boy with hazel eyes, like those of his father. He’s beautiful in a way that has me staring long after is appropriate. Once we’ve paid, I break from Melinda’s hug on the street, promising to keep in touch just in time to catch the first tear with my scarf.