“I don’t throw myself at him.”
“Okay,” she scoffs, letting out a sarcastic laugh I don’t like at all. “He wanted nothing to do with you, but you kept pressing and pressing—”
“Did he say that to you?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop. “Did he say he wanted nothing to do with me?”
“He told the Murdach twins he wanted to stay as far away from us as possible.”
I bite my bottom lip, tears gathering in my eyes as the emotions of today pile on top of me, as the feeling of not being wanted consumes me. A tear slips down my cheek.
“I didn’t know that,” I say softly, clasping my hands together.
“It’s because you never listen, Bonnie. You’re self-absorbed, which is ironic, since you can’t seem to figure out who you are or what you want to do.”
I glance up, the truth in her words stinging. “You encouraged me to fix things up around here, told me that maybe I could find myself—”
“This is not your life!” Dakota shouts, flinging her arms out. “And you’re making it your life. You came here to reflect, to figure out what you’re good at, but instead you’ve just become so immersed in a project that you lost sight of everything around you and buried yourself in a relationship at the same time. You haven’t found out who you really are.”
“But what if I have? What if this is what I’m good at? Ever think about that? What if this is what I want to do?” I shout back.
“Is it?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but I have nothing.
“Exactly,” she says, as if to prove her point. “You came to Scotland to reconnect with yourself, but you’ve just pushed me away, gotten lost in a man, and focused on someone else’s project without establishing who you actually are.”
Is she right?
Have I gotten lost in something that isn’t me?
I glance around the coffee shop, taking in all the small touches I’ve added, the baked goods I made, the pictures I took, and I can honestly admit . . . pride surges in my chest.
I might have gotten lost in someone else’s project, but this project helped me see exactly who I am.
A hard worker.
Someone who finishes what she starts.
A baker.
A designer.
An idea creator.
A heart for a small community.
A businesswoman.
I might have gotten lost, but on the way, I found myself.
I know I did.
Looking her square in the eyes, I say, “You’re wrong, Dakota. I have found myself. Maybe you’re the one who’s too blind to see it.” I straighten up, feeling a little stronger. “You’ve always treated me like the lesser one in our relationship. The fuckup. And I’m sick of it. If you opened your eyes, you’d see that I’ve grown since we’ve been here. I’ve put in the work, I’ve reflected, and I’ve grown. And along the way, yes, maybe I forgot to ask about your relationship, and I’m sorry about that, but I’ll be damned if I let you step on my growth.”
“I’m not stepping on your growth, Bonnie. I’m trying to help you realize—”
“That I’m not the one with problems anymore?” I ask. “Maybe it’s you who needs to reflect before you start seeing someone else. Maybe you need to figure out exactly who you are before you try jumping into another relationship. If you’re so angry about me talking to Isla about all the trials and tribulations you’ve gone through, then maybe you weren’t ready to start dating in the first place. Don’t blame your insecurities on me.”
“Unreal.” She shakes her head, stepping away. “You know what, maybe you did find yourself, and that’s great, good for you, Bonnie. But I don’t like the new you.”
My teeth grind together. “Why? Because I’m not rolling over, like every other time we have a conversation? Because I’m actually sticking up for myself?”
“Because you’re completely missing the point. Life isn’t always about you. Take off the blinders and realize your actions have consequences.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell me this—why do you think Rowan broke up with you?”
My teeth roll over my bottom lip as a wave of embarrassment washes over me, the realization hitting me square in the chest.
“Did you do something he didn’t like?” she presses as tears start to well up again.
“I snooped in his shed,” I answer, so quietly I can barely hear my own voice.