He hadn’t planned to say anything to her, that day or any day, that would make him vulnerable to her again. But he’d asked her if she’d gotten over him eventually.
She’d looked at him with that painfully beautiful face, her dusky blue eyes kind, her skin clear, faint pink on her cheekbones, a long strand of glossy, light brown hair falling in front of her shoulder. Instead of saying not yet or any other answer he could have worked with, she’d said that she had. Gotten over him.
He wished he could say the same for himself.
Her words, spoken in the sweetest possible way, had hit him like a slap because they’d shown him just how different her emotions were from his own.
Josh’s passenger pushed his driver into one of the bags strapped to the back of the cart and took his seat. Josh drove them toward where he’d hooked his ball.
He was here for Ben. In Texas during the month of November, and also on this weekend trip. It frustrated him that he couldn’t seem to think about anything except Holly, the woman he’d been trying not to love for eight years. He was weary of trying not to love her.
He wasn’t someone who gave his trust and affection easily. He had a cautious personality, a tendency toward solitude, and just a few close friends and family members. He was powerfully self-controlled.
Was. Because none of that held true around Holly. When he was around her, he wanted to buy her things, and take her places, and hold her in his arms. He’d cared about her more than she’d cared for him all those years ago. And he cared about her more again now. What was his problem?
His problem was that she was his weakness.
He’d succeeded at a lot in this life. How could it be that he’d failed, and was continuing to fail, at not loving her?
For weeks, Sam had been telling Holly that Rob liked her and that it was only a matter of time before he made his move. Late on Sunday afternoon, he finally did.
When she heard the knock on her door, Holly immediately thought, Josh? Even though Josh had never knocked on her door and wouldn’t even know where to find her apartment. She answered the door in a state of breathlessness.
She found Rob standing in the hallway. He had a Thor vibe going, what with the muscles and the long blond hair. He’d paired a white T-shirt with a pair of those baggy pants that chefs favored. His white coat lay folded over his shoulder.
“Hey,” Holly said. Of course it wasn’t Josh. She had no reason to feel let down. “On the way to work?”
“Yeah. Since it’s Sunday it’ll probably be slow. I’m thinking I’ll be done around nine-thirty.”
“Cool.”
“Would you like to meet me afterward at Vinnie’s for dessert?”
Whenever she and Rob had gone places in the past, they’d gone in a group that included Sam. Sometimes Mr. Perfect or one of Rob’s buddies joined them. “Sam and Mr. Perfect are shopping at Pottery Barn in San Antonio today.” Which is pretty much how Holly imagined young married couples without kids spent the bulk of their time.
“I know.” He gave her a cute I-was-hoping-to-get-dessert-with-you-alone smile.
“Oh. Well.” Her thoughts darted in five nervous directions. “Sure. You know me. I never pass up a chance to eat Vinnie’s chocolate pie.”
“Good.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll text you.”
“’Kay.”
Holly spent the next hour pacing her apartment. Josh had asked her to go with him to the Olive Oil Company and Rob had asked her out for dessert. Two men had issued invitations in the space of a week. Single, handsome men! Instead of elated, however, the invitations—one she’d turned down, one she’d accepted—had left her feeling troubled.
She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat, and reversed her Miata from its parking space. Twenty minutes passed before she realized she’d driven by many of the places where she and Josh had spent time together during their romance. She’d taken herself on a Josh Memory Tour without meaning to.
At the Brenners’ house, she and Josh had sat inside Bryan Brenner’s Jacuzzi during Bryan’s graduation party. Green light had illuminated the still, hot water surrounding them. She could remember how Josh had looked, staring at her through the steam.
A bank and a 7-Eleven now occupied the plot where Josh’s apartment building had once stood. She could taste the microwave popcorn, seasoned with paprika and parsley, that had been his mom’s specialty. They’d eaten it while watching X-Men DVDs in the small living room.