“Okay.” I hold my hands up. “If you say so.” I dig my fingers in the peanut bowl and shove a handful into my mouth.
“Look who’s t-talking.” He drags the bowl away from me. “Maybe you’re the one who should get out there. You’ve had a bit of a dry spell, don’t you think?”
“There were a few girls. But they meant nothing and I didn’t mislead anyone.”
“Yeah, b-but that was like, a while ago,” he adds, pushing the issue. One I’m in no mood to discuss.
“Did I tell you your mom called me yesterday about your birthday shindig? I was confused because your birthday is three months away.”
He smirks. “Nice d-diversionary tactic. And you know how my mom is. She’s a planner—” He snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Now I know where I’ve seen that girl. She was at your mother’s funeral.”
“What?” It takes me a second before I stand up off the stool, scanning the crowd. “Who? Show me which one.”
He pushes off his seat, surveying the faces of people huddled together near the stage and over by the makeshift dance floor. His gaze moves toward the entrance to the bar and he points a finger. “Th-that one.”
Given that Chris has a two inch height advantage, I still can’t see shit. I walk a few paces, pushing my way past the horde of inebriation. And then my eyes land on a face—her sweet, sweet face—and my heart begins to beat like a freaking drum inside my chest. Up until now, I didn’t realize it was still there.
Ember.
Her name clings to my lips and my body stills, save for the erratic thumping of my heart and the slight tremble in my hands. After all this time, there she is. And here I am, unable to move or fucking breathe. All I can do is stare.
Her shoulder length hair is now mid-way down her back, her curves more pronounced. A dress cut above the knees accentuates her long, toned legs. Dresses never used to be her thing. It makes me wonder what else has changed, and how much I’ve missed.
Chris appears beside me. “Yeah, that’s her.”
I look over at him. “She was at the funeral?”
“Yeah. And the only reason I even remember her is because I actually b-bumped into her on my way out. She was upset and I gave her a tissue. I asked how she knew your mom but she was vague.” His eyes travel my face. “You all right? Your skin is pale.”
My glance returns to Ember. “That’s her.”
“Who?”
Of course he wouldn’t recognize her. I never had a picture and she doesn’t have a Facebook profile for fuck’s sake. I would know, because I spent countless hours trying to locate one. Then again, I could have easily found her if guilt and anger hadn’t stood in the way.
I choke down a swell of emotion to utter her name. “Ember.”
“Holy crap. Well, what are you waiting f-for?” He gives my arm a shove. “Go talk to her.”
My feet are frozen, regret keeping them rooted to the sticky floor. “I can’t.” I swallow hard and watch as a big hand comes around to engulf her shoulder, bringing her in close.
And I see just how much has changed.
She looks… happy and my stomach pinches tight. I can’t lie. I wish he wasn’t the one making her smile like that. But she deserves to be with someone who can make her happy. “She’s not mine anymore.” My gaze jumps to Chris’s face and he frowns, the pain scrawled on my skin obvious only to him. “Let’s get out of here.”
The ride back to our apartment in the East Village is quiet, but my brain is filled with static. Seeing Ember again solidified how real my feelings were, and unfortunately for me, still are. But she’s clearly moved on and I only have myself to blame. I didn’t give her a choice. I’m the one who left. I’m the one who threw us away.
Chris’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “I always wondered when we were deciding between New York and California, why you always p-pushed so hard for New York. It was because of her, wasn’t it? Maybe you were hoping she’d be here, too?”
Buildings zip by in a blur of memories as I stare out the window. “It’s a big city, Chris.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” He sighs, the air heavy between us. “You can’t keep doing this, you know? I get it, you w-walked away. And I’m not going to judge you and say whether it was right or wrong. It was all you could handle at the time.” He grips my shoulder and I’m forced to turn around. “But your father has paid for what he did with your silence, and well, so have you. Ember’s gone on with her life. You’re the only one who hasn’t. You’ve been punishing yourself for freaking everything. You don’t even have symptoms anymore for f-fuck’s sake. You may never have any more symptoms. Jesus, Vance. Let it go. Just let it all go.”
Deep down, I know Chris is right. Yet somewhere below the surface, where everything isn’t as clear and Ember’s face is all I see—I can’t let her go.
“I WANT TO marry you,” Grant breathes into my neck, peppering kisses along my skin.
“We’re in a taxi,” I laugh, “and that’s the most unromantic wedding proposal I’ve ever heard.”