“So what did he say?” Georgia asked when I dragged her into the bathroom.
Telling Reid that I didn’t want to hear his apology and that I’d moved on should have been liberating, especially after all the nights I cried myself to sleep after he left, but it wasn’t. I’d waited years to give him a piece of my mind, but when push came to shove I couldn’t say that I hated him for what he’d done. Not when he looked at me the way he did. The regret and sincerity on his face had pulled the rug right out from underneath me. As easy as it would have been to forgive him, I had more pride than that. I mustered up the best “I’ve moved on” speech I could manage and left him on the sidewalk.
“He tried to apologize,” I told her. I felt the tears welling in my eyes and I knew if I blinked it would be game over. I’d start crying. Then Georgia would cry because I was. Then we’d be a couple of nut jobs crying in the bathroom together. I touched the corners of my eyes and tried to push back my emotions. “I told him it was too late for apologies and that we shouldn’t waste our time talking about it.”
“You didn’t even let him say he was sorry?”
“Honestly,” I sighed, “I’m not really sure what he said exactly. All I know is that it’s hard to talk to him and I don’t have the energy to revisit the past, G. I just want him to stay away from me and let me live the life I’ve been living. There’s a lot of baggage I’m not even close to being ready to unpack.” If Georgia even knew half of what it had been like when Reid left she wouldn’t be so quick to root for a reconciliation.
“I’m sorry that I called them over to the table,” she said, wrapping her arms around me. “I should have known it would be uncomfortable for you. I really thought it would help for you to talk to him.”
“It’s fine.” I hugged her back. “Can we please just go back out there and act like he’s not even here?”
“Of course,” she promised, dropping her arms from around me and taking her hand in mine. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I want to drink.”
“Done,” she said, as we made our way back to the table. I didn’t even have to look at him to know Reid was still in the building. I could feel his eyes on me, and as much as a part of me wanted to tell him that I didn’t hate him, I couldn’t. I would not let myself be vulnerable to him again.
Three months.
I’d made it seven years pretending he didn’t exist, I could keep doing it. I was suddenly very understanding of the “out of sight, out of mind” concept. It was easy to ignore his existence when he was gone, but here, standing in the same room as me, it wasn’t that simple. He was drinking and laughing with his friends and letting Tally Westbrook hang all over him. Tally was a year younger than me and a typical Halstead barfly, out every night and went home with whoever would buy her the most drinks.
I should have known that he’d immediately seek out someone to replenish the ego I was sure I’d knocked down after our conversation. I’d meant to hurt him with my words, or at least wound him, but it had backfired. Typical Reid behavior, he sought out comfort after a loss. Anytime he lost a race, he’d beat himself up until I managed to convince him that he was a great rider. Pissed me off now that I thought about it. He was probably doing it on purpose back then just like he was now. He knew he was great. He just loved people fawning over him. Fucking asshole.