Page 13 of Another Life
But it’s worth the sting.
That sting reminds me of the all-consuming love I once tumbled into. And how I’ll be a little more careful with my heart next time.
“Well,” Miley starts, her eyes on her phone, “it seems our sacred time has come to a close.” She shows me her phone and when I see Sam’s name, I grin.
“Go on. I’ve got the bill,” I inform her, waving her on.
“Call me later if you want to bounce design ideas off me,” she tells me as she rises, grabbing her clutch and pressing a kiss to my cheek before she answers the phone.
I hear her giggle tinkle somewhere behind me as I wave the waitress over and hand her my card. As I wait, I look through my own phone and notice a text message from Peter waiting for me.
Don’t forget you’ve got the girls today.
I don’t smile at the sight of his name. I don’t giggle on the phone with him. And, sure, the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever. But when I look back on our time together, I can’t deny the lingering notion that I chose him because he’d undeniably chosen me.
And it felt great to be his number one. Safe, dependable Peter. He’d been exactly what I needed.
The waitress hands me back my card and I’m standing when someone bumps into me from behind, causing me to nearly tumble over.
“I’m so sor?—”
The apology dies on his lips as he gets a good look at me, helping me straighten.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him this close that I wonder, in spite of his hand gripping my elbow to steady me, if I’m dreaming him.
Had Peter’s touch ever felt like this?
Here I am, somewhere between a love too tame to warm me and a love I swear left third degree burns on my soul.
Before I can think twice about it, I yank my elbow from his grip.
Because what the fuck is going on?
There’s no such thing as a coincidence these days.
“What are you…” I glance around to make sure Miley is gone. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, smoothing my linen pants to mask the way my palms have suddenly dampened.
“Not the warm reception I was hoping for,Stellina,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over me like they’re trying to piece together the memory of me with the woman standing here now.
“Answer my question. Are you…” I lean in close, hating that I can smell him and how familiar his scent still is, even after all these years. “Are youfollowingme?”
He chuckles and it isn’t the adamant denial I was hoping for.
“Here’s your lunch, sir,” a voice says from behind me. “Did you have trouble finding the restroom?”
“I think trouble found me instead,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving my face.
I step away from them, determined to put space between us so I can figure out why the universe is hellbent on making me pay for every reckless decision I’ve ever made.
The most reckless of them all is following me and as I hear him call out my name, I have to decide if running away would make me look as unhinged as I feel.
“What?” I shout, stopping short at the door. He’s already unknowingly chased me out of my grocery store. I refuse to let him have this restaurant too.
“I’m not following you. This place has very good food,” he offers, lifting the bag in his hand with a shrug.
“Itisthe best Italian spot in Boston,” I agree before shaking my head and frowning at him. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but Boston isn’t your home. It never has been.”
I’m too on edge, not far enough removed from my panic attack, to be in this situation. And if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late getting the girls.