“When you see him, you’ll know.”
“You think?” I was hopeful. Even though I was unsure about seeing him, after months of being in the proverbial dark it would be nice to feel sure of something. Of anything.
“Is what you’re doing now working? Are you thinking of him any less? Is avoiding him, even though you’re in the same town, moving you forward? Listen,” she said, her voice suddenly softer. “You don’t have to jump back into a relationship with him. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But seeing him, talking to him, perhaps even talking about Marcus, that might help you, sweetie.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice matching her softness. “You’re probably right.”
“I usually am,” she replied, her voice conveying the smile I knew was on her face.
“Your husband’s a saint,” I said, now laughing. “I don’t know how he puts up with you.”
“He totally is,” she agreed. Then she sighed. “Patrick knows what he’s got, and he knows he’s got it good. And I feel lucky to have him too. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong any less.”
“I want what you have.” My voice was suddenly a whisper. “I’ve wanted it for so long, Megs. I’ve just told myself it wasn’t possible, that it would end badly, that I would hold someone else down and then they’d leave, and I’d be even more broken than I was when I started.”
“Sweetie, I’m almost positive that Riot will give you whatever you want, but not if you keep hiding from him.” Then, as she had a tendency to do, she lightened the mood. “I only hide from Patrick when there’s some sort of sexual game going on, and even then I don’t hide well enough for him to not find me.”
I laughed, even as an errant tear slid down my face.
“What if I just end up pushing him away again?”
Megan let out a loud laugh. “Honey, you let Riot back in, there’s no way he’s going to let you push him away again. Not out of fear. Trust me, Kals. Just talk to him.”
“Okay,” I said, breathing the word out, hoping to push out some of the fear with it. “How is life in Portland?” I asked, trying to move the conversation away from me and the myriad of issues she and Ella were constantly helping me cope with.
“Oh, you know, same old. It’s really rainy here, but that’s no surprise. Getting colder. What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
“I don’t have any. I was just going to stay here, get some Chinese food.”
“Do you get time off?”
“Yeah, I’m off Wednesday through Sunday.”
“You should come to Lincoln City. Ella and Porter are hosting Thanksgiving at their beach house.”
The last time I’d been in that house I’d slept with Riot. I’d fallen in love with him in that house. It would be torture to be there again if I didn’t figure my life out.
“Maybe, I’ll see what I can work out.”
“Okay, well, we all want to see you.”
I smiled because I knew she was being sincere. “I know, Megs. I want to see you guys too. I’ll try to make it work.”
“Okay. I’ve got to get back to the store now, Kal. Do you think you’re gonna talk to Riot?”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
“Good. Call me if you need me after.”
“Will do.”
“Love you, Kal.”
“Bye, Megs.”
It took me three days to work up the nerve to go back to the Coffee Bean I’d found the note in. I was a nervous wreck. I spent an inordinate amount of time picking the perfect outfit, I planned what I was going to say to him, and then I marched into the coffee shop, sat down, and I waited. I waited and I waited, but he never showed. Well, at least not in the two hours I sat there.
It hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t come. He said if I was there, he’d find me. But then I started panicking. Perhaps he’d come the past three days, waited for me, but then assumed I wasn’t coming back. Perhaps he thought I’d chosen to stay away, to avoid him. Suddenly, the apprehension I had about seeing him turned into fear that I would never see him again.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, walking with determination to the soundstage I knew he worked on. I opened the door and stalked down the hallways, looking frantically for Riot. I saw quite a few people, but none of them were the tall, dark-headed, and devastatingly handsome man I was looking for. I turned another corner and collided with a woman.
We both stumbled backward violently, and had I not fallen against the wall, I would have hit the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I said immediately. “Are you all right?” I righted myself and saw the other woman doing the same.
“I’m fine, are you okay?” she asked, not unkindly.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I was just looking for someone.”
She straightened her blouse and adjusted the pencil behind her ear, gripping her clipboard to her chest. “Maybe I can help. Who are you looking for?”
“Um, Riot Bentley. I think he works on this lot.”
“He does. Are you Kalli?”