She points at me, her sparkly gold nail polish catching a glint of sun pouring in through the shades. “You should pawn it.”
Rising, I stretch my arms overhead and crack my fingers. My muscles resist like they are permanently frozen in the sit and lie position. Standing…moving…it all feels like a foreign concept and my body protests. I’ve lost four days of my life, moping. It’s time to get the blood flowing again. “I’m going for a coffee. Can I get you something?” I grab my purse from the floor and sling it around my shoulder.
Palmer’s eyes turn to slits. “You better not be going to see him. I won’t let my best friend beg her ex to take her back. He doesn’t deserve you.”
I love her with my whole heart, but her bossiness triggers me. I’m already torn and tormented, and right now I don’t need anyone telling me what I am or am not allowed to do. My heart is bleeding, my jealousy is on fire, and my head is exploding…I’m already juggling too many emotions.
“Palmer, please. I’m thirty years old. You have to let me breathe. I said I’m going to get coffee, but if and when I choose to talk to Mason, I won’t be asking for your permission.”
“Well, you’re staying here indefinitely, right? I thought my job was to protect you from yourself?” Her lips press into a hard line. Her whole demeanor is overly agitated. I’m not proud to say this, but right now I kind of wish I had a friend to tell me that if I wanted to salvage my relationship, it was an option. Maybe it’s a long, hard, broken road, but if I wanted to win him back, the path is still an option.
The truth is Mason could’ve cheated and gotten away with this. I would’ve been none the wiser. I trusted him so much, I never suspected a damn thing. If he was really a pig, he could’ve just lied… But he told the truth. He wasn’t happy. Is he wrong for not wanting to commit to a life of lackluster sex? Did I play a role in the demise of our relationship? I never knew he wanted the sexy girl. I thought loyalty, kindness, patience, and intelligence were enough. Am I dumb for thinking our situation was enough to make him happy?
And the biggest question—was I happy? Or was I just goal-focused? Am I even ready to ask that question that will unravel the past four years of my life?
No.
I want some peace and quiet.
I want to not pick at the wound while it’s so fresh.
I want to stop feeling so broken, weak, and insecure.
I want an overpriced fancy coffee.
“Iced skinny caramel macchiato with no drizzle?” I ask Palmer, making my intentions clear. I’m going where I want, whether you like it or not.
She nods reluctantly. “Thank you.”
I blow her a kiss as I pass the kitchen to make my way to the front door.
“Wait, you’re going right now?”
“Yes?” I scrunch up my face, confused at her surprise.
“Looking like that?” She eyes me up and down.
Fucking geez, Palmer. I mean, she’s not wrong. My pajama shorts are frayed a little at the bottom. My baggie beige T-shirt looks like it came from a Goodwill’s reject pile. But for the love of God, I’m in my mourning phase of the breakup. Let me mourn.
“I’m going through the drive-through,” I say haughtily and slip out the door before she can say another damn word.
The normally obnoxiously long line at the Starbucks drive-through is quick today. So quick, in fact, that after picking up a hot latte for myself and Palmer’s iced drink, I circle back to the parking lot, roll my windows down, and grant myself a moment of quiet.
I’m still agitated at our interaction and am in no hurry to run back to her apartment. I can’t go home. It’s clear I can’t keep holing away at my friend’s place unless I develop rubber skin so her bossy, passive-aggressive jabs can bounce right off of me. I forgive her because Palmer has the best intentions and she’s the only friend I have who would immediately drop what she’s doing, scoop me up from a restaurant on the opposite side of town, and hold me all night while I cried on her shoulder. She’s also the friend who thinks vodka is a perfectly appropriate way to start the morning. That’s exactly the energy I need right now after having my boyfriend of four years tell me that instead of marrying me, he wants to sample his other options.
I promised myself I wouldn’t look her up.
But dammit, it’d be so easy.
Maura…from the gym…who is a trainer. I bet I could go to Edge Fitness’s website right now, scroll to the staff page, and see her beautiful face and perfectly shaped body. There’s no doubt in my mind this woman is stunning. I bet in comparison I look like a bump on a pickle. I just didn’t know Mason was looking. I know I shouldn’t check her out. It’s only going to drive me absolutely insane. The next two years of my life will be a comparison game to this woman who will become a beauty beacon in my mind. What’s the point? Why torture myself?
Curiosity…that’s why.
I let my fingers dance over the keyboard letters…www-dot-edge—
My phone rings, startling me and yanking me away from temptation. By now I just assume it’s Mason, so I instinctively move to hit the decline button. Instead, Dexter Hessler flashes across the screen—one of my favorite long-term clients. I slap a perky smile on my face even though he can’t see me.
“Hello?”
“Avery. Helloooo.” Dex’s cheery voice is so loud through the car’s Bluetooth I have to lunge for the volume button to turn his energy down. Whew. “Sorry to call you on a Saturday. I hate being that client.”
“No problem at all, Dex. How are you?”
“Fuckin’ great! This is a happy call, by the way, where I tell you that the egregious amount of money I paid you and Mason was well worth it and I earned it back tenfold.”
I chuckle. “Glad to hear it. Care to share the specifics?”
“We booked the entire summer for guided tours. Every single slot is filled and the trip is more than funded. Not to mention the entire line of the new Aqualung fins and wetsuits are sold out. The gear hasn’t even shipped yet. My mind is blown.”
Dive and surf shops are wildly competitive. Dex needed an edge to make his little business competitive. Mason and I loved working on developing the Best Fishes brand. Dex didn’t even have a real logo and his marketing package was messy. I invented an entire new look, defined a color palette, and curated entirely new brand messaging. While I worked with Dex to increase his social media presence by making one-minute educational videos of gear care, emergency preparation, and the different types of scuba certifications, Mason dove into SEO. If you Google scuba shops in the state of California, Best Fishes now shows up on the first page, which was a nearly impossible feat for a company based in Las Vegas, over five hours away from the California beaches where they certify their students.
“Dex, I’m so happy to hear it. Where are you starting the guided tours?”
“Cozumel. Then off to the Cayman Islands.”
“Incredible.”
“Hey, I have an idea. Do you want to come on one trip? Just pay your way in travel and I’ve got you covered for the tour, gear, and everything else. It’s going to be beautiful.”