I hold up a finger as I guzzle half of the oat latte. Each sip makes me feel that much better.
“It was a really good meeting, right up until the end.” I attempt to explain it all again. “I knew it would be a lot of money, but seeing the numbers on paper really triggered a reaction. I think I could get the loan. But if things didn’t work out, I’d be completely screwed, and I’d have nothing, and that thought is totally terrifying.”
Dax doesn’t respond right away. He lifts my coffee to my lips and waits until I finish the entire thing. “You’re right. It’s terrifying. Working your ass off for something and seeing it not work out kills you a little inside. But do you know what happens next?”
I shake my head, and little coconut flakes fall into my lap.
Dax brushes the remaining ones from my lips with his thumb. “You get up the next morning, and you start working on a new plan. And yes, the world sucks for a while until you figure the next thing out, but you will figure it out, Gemma. You’re a smart woman.” His thumb moves upward on my face and wipes a single tear I didn’t realize had fallen.
“I think the doughnut and the compliments are helping,” I say.
Dax pulls my forehead to his lips and plants a soft kiss. “Tell me something,” he says. “How are you going to feel five years from now if you don’t at least try to see if you can do this?”
I think about his question. The advantage I have here is that up until a few weeks ago, I’d spent night after night wondering if I would have been able to make Wilde Beauty a success if only I’d had the guts to try.
“I think I’d regret not at least seeing if it was possible. I just wish I had some sort of guarantee it would all work out.”
Dax gets to his feet. “I can’t promise you everything will work out. But what I can tell you is that you’re smart and you’re driven and incredibly talented, and you have everything you need to make this thing happen.”
“Yeah, except a giant bank loan.”
Dax holds out his hand. I place my palm in his and let him pull me to my feet. “You’re right,” I say to him. “About all of it. You’re very good at this. If you ever get sick of running Kicks, you should consider becoming a therapist.”
Dax laces his fingers through mine. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
We start walking in the direction of Queen Street. “And since you are so smart,” I tell him, “I’ll let you pick where we have lunch.”
Dax thinks for a moment. “Pho?”
“I think you meant to say sushi.”
We settle on Indian from a tiny little family-run place wedged between a ramen noodle shop and a podiatrist’s office. By the time I’m through my paneer tikka, I’m feeling better, and I have a plan to set up a call with my bank on Monday and then with Priya’s investors to determine my best financing options. It may not end up working out, but I’m going to try.
We leave the restaurant, bellies a little too full and hands clasped together, taking the long route back to the train station so we can window-shop all of the little independent stores along Queen. My heart feels a little lighter and more hopeful with every step until the door to one of the stores opens. We have to stop to let a mother and her stroller out, followed by a man who is so achingly familiar that my heart momentarily stops beating in my chest.
He’s wearing a navy-blue Tom Ford suit.
The jacket rides up as he reaches down to lift the stroller over the single front step. He looks directly at me as he straightens, and it feels like a kick straight to the shins. It stings because it isn’t Eric. Or Aiden. Or Elliott. Or whatever the hell that doppelg?nger’s name was at the Prince and Pauper that night.
It’s the real thing.
Stuart Holliston in the flesh.
The mother with the stroller beside him fusses with the baby, then searches for something in her bag. Stuart takes the stroller’s handles and starts to steer it around Dax and me. It takes a full moment for me to realize that Stuart and this woman are together.
I guess if he hasn’t been dating me for the past four years in this reality, it means he’s been free and clear to find someone else. Apparently, Stuart’s someone else is curvy, stunning, and happy, judging by the way she lovingly pops a pacifier into the infant’s mouth, then takes Stuart’s arm with the kind of practiced affection I don’t think I ever gave him.
Kids were a sore spot in our relationship. Possibly even the weakened support beam that led to our collapse. He wanted. I didn’t. I was too unsure of what a good parent looked like to be confident enough that I’d make a good one myself, so it feels weird—almost like I’ve been betrayed—to see him so natural in the role of doting dad.
Our eyes lock as they pass. He holds my gaze for longer than a second, and I think part of me expects him to stop. To acknowledge me and the four years we spent together. But he continues on his way as if I’m simply a stranger, not the least bit affected.
I can’t say the same thing for me.
“Friend of yours?” Dax asks, reminding me that he’s here, watching me have a mild meltdown about my ex-boyfriend.
“Was,” I answer honestly. “In another life.”
I’m acutely aware of the way Dax’s eyes shift over my shoulder, presumably to where Stuart is still walking down the sidewalk.
“Do you want to tell me about him?”
Oh god, is that ever a question.
I take Dax’s hand, and we walk a few blocks to the south end of Trinity Bellwoods Park, finding an empty bench under a tree next to a pickup Ultimate Frisbee game. Dax takes the seat beside me and waits.
“I feel like I just got a glimpse of what my future could have been,” I tell him.
He nods as if what I’m saying isn’t completely wild. “Is it a life you want?”
“No.” There’s no hesitation in my reaction. None at all.
“Even the guy?” There’s a vulnerability in Dax’s voice.
“Especially the guy.” I shift my body to face Dax, tucking my leg under my knee and scooting close so I can attempt to explain how my reaction wasn’t about wanting Stuart at all. It was just shock. And it was my brain making that final click into place, sorting through my changing feelings about Dax.
“I think he may have been one of those decisions you were talking about earlier. Where my heart knew it wasn’t right but my head overruled with practical reasons why I should stay in that relationship. And I need to explain something to you. It might not make complete sense, but I need you to roll with it.”
Dax nods.
“I want you, Dax. Every day it becomes even more clear to me how stupid I’ve been. I am better when I am with you. That whole meltdown I had before lunch, where I looked into my future and freaked the fuck out, and then you Master Yoda’d me into realizing what I really want? I need that in my life. I need you in my life. You are good for me, and I’m hoping I can be as good for you.”
Dax’s hand cups the side of my face. He doesn’t say a word, but he pulls me toward him, and our foreheads meet for a few moments before my lips meet his for a long kiss.