And later again my first heartbreak.
I sigh, snuggle back down into the covers of my big, empty bed, and hate how seeing Hayes yesterday caused forgotten memories to resurface. Like those first flutters of how I felt that night in the tree house when something shifted between us. Such a contrast to the regret that’s been eating at me since I jumped to conclusions. My temper. The twist of my gut as he drove away without allowing me to explain my actions, even though I couldn’t really explain them anyway without feeling more pathetic.
Damn you, Hayes Whitley.
Damn him for always popping back into my life somehow: his movie trailer on constant repeat during television commercials, running into his mom in the grocery store, sitting at a Starbucks in town and seeing him from afar on the very few occasions he’s bothered to venture back home. They’ve all caused those feelings of rejection and hurt to rile back up when all I had wanted was for them to be dead and buried.
Even when I was engaged to Mitch. That spark, the one that had been missing, it was Hayes Whitley’s fault it wasn’t there in the first place. Why can’t I be free of him? It has been ten years. I was going to marry another man, for God’s sake. Shit. I don’t want this. Don’t have time for this churned-up memory. Don’t want this unsettled feeling.
But it’s not like Hayes even cares. He most likely chalked up what we had to teenage love with his best friend’s little sister. A blip on the radar before he was swallowed whole by the flashes of the cameras that constantly follow him around to document his every move. So why would I assume he’d even think twice about me, a ghost of a memory from his past?
It’s not like I thought of him much either. Once I met Mitch, he was the patient one earning my trust. The trust I never gave anyone after the job Hayes did on it. Because yes, while I can admit that what Hayes and I had was most likely puppy love, it was also the first time my heart was broken, and you don’t forget either of those occurrences very easily.
But if it was puppy love, why did seeing him yesterday affect me so strongly?
It’s ironic. I’m lying in bed thinking about Hayes all these years later and not questioning why it’s not Mitch I’m thinking of.
It’s only been eight months. Not ten years. And yet, Hayes’s pull on me dominates without question.
Mitch was gentle and patient and the man I was going to marry. Hayes was brash and assertive and left me with a battered and bruised heart.
Maybe it’s just because Hayes is the one I couldn’t have. Maybe it’s an inherent thing to feel that way even though I was young without a clue about life or love. Regardless, it doesn’t matter.
There will be no seeing Hayes again other than on his larger-than-life billboard ads. Or on one of the bazillion magazine covers that adorn the checkout stands, accusing him of cheating on Jenna Dixon: his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend or who knows what she is to him because they are tabloids after all. Or if I don’t flip the channel quick enough when he makes a promotional appearance on Ellen or Jimmy Fallon. Because I screwed up. I assumed Hayes had shown up because Ryder called him. And maybe he felt bad about what had happened a long time ago, thought I was pathetic and pitied my situation with Mitch so he came to save the day. Or laugh at me. Both would have made me feel the same way.
But he hadn’t.
Not even close. He didn’t even have a clue what I was talking about, but my temper was unleashed, my mouth in motion without thinking. All Hayes wanted to do was pick up an order for his great-uncle’s memorial. Mitch used to joke that he needed to carry duct tape for my mouth in case I lost my cool, so I wouldn’t make a scene and tarnish the pristine Layton reputation. Now I can see why.
Talk about being an idiot with a capital I.
Even worse is that, despite all of this as I lie here in bed, every part of me wants to find some way to apologize to Hayes. I need to explain but know that would only result in me feeling like more of an idiot when I tell him I was a runaway bride. That the wedding bells I thought I heard were actually alarm bells warning me to save myself and run the opposite way. How do I save face and make him see I’m not crazy when I tell him any of that? That I was in a perfectly solid relationship for six years but when it came down to brass tacks, I couldn’t do it.
I’ll just have to lie low. Keep to myself and away from any of the places I know he frequents when he’s here. Avoidance is probably best at this point.
With that decided and feeling a bit more settled, I slowly sink into the edge of sleep.
My mind drifting to that first kiss.
To our last kiss.
To how my heart jumped in my throat and every female part of me reacted to the sight of him in the bakery.
To the man I shouldn’t be thinking about but can’t seem to shake from my mind.
I should be working.