“You know what, I think I’m gonna get out of here.” Pushing off from my stool, I untied my apron, grabbed my bag from under the counter, and nodded to Chad and Logan.
“You want some company? You can come over; we’ve got Beaches on Blu-ray,” Logan offered.
“That does sound nice, but I think—” I looked over their shoulder and saw quickly where this was going with my mother and Wayne Tuesday. “Ugh. I just need to get out of here.”
Because the lump, I was discovering, was quickly followed by tears, and they were already stinging, preparing to march down my cheeks. The guys both looked at me sadly as I headed out the front door.
My truck looked blurry through the tears now starting to spill. I jumped into the giant Wagoneer, which had carried me all the way across the country and back again, and as I started up the old familiar rumble, U2 came blaring out of the crackly old speakers, singing “One.”
Is it getting better . . .
Oh can it, Bono!
I pulled over on the side of the road, threw the car into park, and pressed eject. I had no patience for U2 today, and the way their words never failed to highlight exactly what I was thinking, exactly what needed to be said. But still Bono sang, words about having someone to blame. I pressed eject again. Still nothing. I pressed eject a third time, and when nothing happened, I punched the stereo.
Which still did nothing! Bono sang about asking me to enter but then making me crawl, and I slapped at the CD player, yelling and crying, trying to get the damn thing to stop.
And then I heard a very familiar Wrangler pulling up behind me.
Before Leo could get to my window, I grabbed my bag and slammed out of my car, walking up the road.
“Hey, Roxie, where are you going?”
“Leave me alone, Leo,” I said, not wanting him to see me crying, not wanting to see his face. He had a power over me that I’d never felt before, and I was weak with it. I was angry at myself for letting things get this far, but Leo was going to feel the brunt of my anger.
“Stop, please—Jesus, Rox, would you stop already!” he shouted, his footsteps loud on the hot asphalt as he ran after me, because that’s what happens in a romantic comedy, right? She walks, he chases, she protests, then they kiss and all is well—ha.
He caught up to me and I turned around, my face wet with tears.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Where’s Polly?”
“She’s with my mom. I dropped them off at the house, and then I came back for you. Your mom told me you took off, and I guessed you’d gone this way. Polly’s fine. She’s—”
“Polly’s not fine,” I countered. She’s not fine at all—she was crying.”
“Rox, she’s had me all to herself for seven years. Don’t you think seeing me kissing a woman, especially one she just met, would be a bit weird for her?”
“Are you crazy? It’s a lot weird! You have no idea what she’s feeling right now,” I snapped, wiping at my tears angrily. I stomped past him, heading back for the car.
“What do you mean? How can you know what she’s— Hey, would you stop running away from me?” Leo called, hot on my heels.
“She’s wondering if you’re going to marry me. She’s wondering if I’m going to kick her out of her house. She’s wondering if you’re going to stop paying attention to her. She’s wondering if I’m going to start making her eat boiled carrots every night. She’s wondering if you’re going to forget her one day, because you’ve got me now!”
I reached the car and opened the door, but he slammed it shut before I could get in. I whirled around, sheer anger flowing out now. “And worst of all, she’s wondering if she’s going to love me and I’m not going to love her back!”
He rocked backward as though I’d slapped him.
The lump . . . oh, the lump. I was choking on it.