She hadn’t heard from Josh since their outing to the caterer. She hadn’t expected to. Yesterday, he would have left town for Ben’s bachelor party.
He didn’t live in Martinsburg. In fact, Josh had only returned to Martinsburg eighteen days ago. So it infuriated her that she was so strongly aware of his absence this weekend. Everywhere she went felt devoid of excitement. The colors muted. More lonely. Why? Because she knew that he wasn’t here anymore.
“This is why I can’t get any more twisted up over him than I have already,” she told Shadow, whose eyelids were drooping closed. “The time I spent with him has messed with my head enough.”
Meow, Shadow said. Which Holly translated to mean, Get a grip, girl.
“Get a grip is precisely what I need to do. I’m going to leave here and go home and write like the wind. I’m really . . . I’m just going to pour out some great, great pages that will keep readers up late into the night. I left my heroine in a den of cutthroats with nothing but her rapier for defense in order to come here, you realize. Now I need to go home and rescue her.”
Shadow cracked one dubious eye.
“Have I given you enough socialization?”
The cat gave a terrific stretch, which meant she wanted more petting. “Fine.” Holly stroked her family’s cat and reminded herself that this was how she spent her weekends. This was her destiny.
Was this really his destiny?
Josh sat in the driver’s seat of a golf cart, watching one of Ben’s college fraternity buddies hit a drive. The twenty guys on the trip hadn’t been content with eighteen holes. They’d played eighteen this morning, stopped for lunch, and were out on the course again for another eighteen. To be honest, he’d far rather be discussing asynchronous JavaScript and XML with one of his programmers. “Nice shot.”
Another of Ben’s friends moved toward the tee box.
In the distance, Josh could see Ben putting on the green. It had been satisfying to watch Ben and the others enjoying the weekend, despite that he felt like a spectator to their fun rather than a participant.
He’d been in an irritable mood since the day he and Holly had last gone to the caterer’s. After their conversation, he’d made himself wait a day so that he could organize his thoughts and emotions before calling his mom. She’d confirmed everything Holly had told him and reiterated all the reasons Holly had voiced. She’d even gone so far as to tell him that she’d always felt guilty about the grief she’d caused him and Holly.
She’d expected both him and Holly to rebound and start dating again after their breakup, she’d said. They’d been eighteen years old. She’d thought that they’d recover faster than they had. She’d apologized to him and asked him to pass along her regret and heartfelt best wishes to Holly.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, rubbing the side of his thumb against it.
Despite his mother’s good intentions when she’d asked Holly to end things with him, there was no possible way that she could ever fully know what it was she’d screwed up. She’d viewed his relationship with Holly the way most parents probably viewed the relationships of their teenage children, as light and passing and juvenile.
He and Holly were the only two people who knew how much they’d loved each other. And only he knew the scars Holly’s loss had left on him.
None of them were completely without fault. He’d been shortsighted to want to leave MIT. His mom had been wrong to take matters into her own hands. And Holly should have told him about his mom’s visit the day it had happened.
Did he fault Holly the most, though?
No. Back then, his mom had been a forty-five-year-old woman armed with a mother’s fierce protectiveness of her only child. Holly had been a college freshman living apart from her family for the first time. He understood why she’d been swayed, and he believed her when she told him she’d done what she thought best for him.
It was going to take practice to think of Holly without the bitterness that had accompanied his thoughts of her for so long. But it also felt right to try. She’d explained and apologized. He’d forgiven her.
Who’s to say, anyway? The way things had happened might actually have been the best thing for him. He’d built his company into the stuff his dreams had been made of.
Josh adjusted his Nike ball cap, slanting it lower.
He hadn’t needed Holly to shop for rehearsal dinner locations with him, nor to visit his caterer once, much less twice. She’d been humoring him. He’d made up something about visiting the Olive Oil company next week, solely so that he’d have another reason to see her. She’d turned him down. Even so, when she’d whispered that it had taken her a long time to get over him, stupid hope had gripped his heart.