Page 80 of Bad Boy Crush
“I know you wrote it. Writing is different from reading. Writing can be stream of consciousness, which is coming from a different part of your brain—a hidden part that knows more than you do. My therapist encouraged me to journal after I left Neil. I found this cute pink notebook at a gift shop, and I began to write. For months I made entries and never looked at them. Until I did. Rereading those words opened my eyes to what I didn’t know I knew. It’s one of the reasons I was able to say yes to Brady. Excavating the shit is one thing but sifting through it in search of treasure is another.”
Lou stared through the screen. Was that true? Were the answers right in front of her? Just waiting to be uncovered?
“You two have to work out an arrangement before next fall,” her friend said. “I want you in my wedding, and Brady already asked Ant.”
“Really?” She was torn over being happy to stand next to Elli on her wedding day and nervous about Ant’s reaction if they were still at odds then.
“Really. You have to be there. You’re important to me.” Elliott stood and hugged Lou, who found herself fighting tears again. “If you need me, I’ll be floating by our dock with a beer in my hand. Brady is running an errand but as soon as he’s back, we’re jumping in the lake.”
“Sounds perfect.” A kernel of envy popped in Lou’s belly. Part of her wanted that sort of life with Ant. Was that a clue?
“You know you’re invited.” Elli gave Lou’s arm a final squeeze. “Trusting in your own strength is never a mistake. You’re going to figure this out. I promise.”
With that, her wise friend left, via the patio door in the back this time. Lou stared at her computer, curious as to what she might learn from the words she’d written. Was it possible she’d left a message for herself she’d missed the first time around? She reread a paragraph. Most of the words didn’t sound familiar, so she backtracked to page one.
And then, she started to read.
* * *
Ant had been working on a sculpture for the last five days straight. That wasn’t an exaggeration. He’d barely come up for air. He’d been in the shop, rain or shine, chainsawing or sanding or whittling the piece into form. He thought it would be therapeutic, but here it was Sunday and he still felt like dogshit.
He’d poured his feelings of love and anger and unworthiness and sadness and frustration into every cut. Last night he’d worked so late, his eyelids had grown heavy. He’d been forced to stop or risk losing a finger. In his frustration at being unable to finish, and at feeling no better, he’d nearly sliced the damn thing in half.
Behind him, the shop door opened, and he called out, “We’re closed!”
“I have cake.”
He looked over his shoulder to find Brady carrying a plate covered with foil. “Elli Bean told me to bring you a slice of gramps’s birthday cake, but it’s an excuse. I’m supposed to check on you.”
Brady walked deeper into the shop, his face twisting as he examined the sculpture Ant hadn’t completed. “Well, this direction is…new.”
“I don’t need an intervention. Or cake.”
Brady followed Ant to his desk, cluttered with paperwork because Ant for sure didn’t have the energy to deal with that. His friend set the plate on top of a stack of envelopes. “You didn’t go easy on me when I messed up with Elliott.”
“You refused to admit you loved her when you did. I told Lourdes. Multiple times.”
“Guessing she didn’t respond favorably.”
“What was your first clue.” Ant collapsed into the creaky office chair, tired to the bone. “I can’t make her love me back.”
“No, you can’t.” His buddy lowered his ass onto the corner of the desk. “But you can wait until she realizes she does.”
“I waited. I waited through a marriage and a divorce and her refusing to speak to me for a clip. How long should I wait? How long should I put my life on hold for the woman who doesn’t love me back? How fucking long, Brady?”
His friend said nothing. Which was wise. Ant wasn’t a total stranger to anger, but it was a rare visitor.
“This sucks.” Understatement. “Kissing her at that festival was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” To his utter mortification, his voice cracked on that last sentence. It was because he didn’t mean it. Not a single goddamn word of it. He wanted to, though. He wanted to be strong enough to regret starting up with the woman who made him hurt like he had glass embedded in his skin.
That’s where Lou was—under his skin and refusing to work herself out. He had no idea how to stop loving her the way he did—with an intensity that didn’t dissipate, no matter what she did or said to him.
“Sorry,” Ant grumbled. “This is—”
“Torture. I know. Elliott went to Chicago, and I had no idea if I’d see her again. What was supposed to be a fun summer fling turned into strong feelings I hadn’t planned for. You’re right. I didn’t admit I loved her until it was almost too late. Inside I was dying without her.”
“You got lucky. She was dying inside without you too. She came back.”
“Lou came back to you too. She missed you being around. She’s working it out as we speak.”