Not the most original excuse known to womankind, but it was all I could think of at the time and I was running with it.
“Of course,” he said softly. Not for the first time tonight, I swallowed my guilt. He pulled me in for a hug, and I breathed in his comforting scent. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nodded and smiled, tears threatening my eyes. Tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow things would feel different, tomorrow things would make sense. Tomorrow I could see Eddie’s words as what they were: an apology, an apology I needed to accept and move on from.
Tomorrow, everything would be clear.
* * *
Only, it wasn’t. It was far from clear.
I woke up in twisted sheets, feeling as though I hadn’t slept a wink. My mind was full to bursting, cycling through my conversation with Eddie and trying to work out the meaning behind what he’d said.
Why did he want to see me? He had looked so hurt when I had said no to him. What did it mean?
In an instant, I was a young eighteen-year-old once more, back when Eddie was mine. I let out a sigh, full of longing. The way he would look at me, the love in his eyes, the warmth in his smile. He had made me feel like I was all that mattered to him, like his life held no meaning without me.
And we had been good together. We would go on early morning runs, preparing ourselves mentally and physically for the day. Although we were students and had next to no money, he would take me to romantic places, pick wild flowers for me, surprise me with a romantic picnic for two at our favorite beach. It was magical time, a time I had found so hard to forget.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand: nine thirty. Wow, I had overslept! That wasn’t like me in the least.
I threw my covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting upright and running my hands through my hair. I locked my jaw. Part of me screamed, “How dare he do this to me!” Just when my life was going great, he had to turn up and remind me of the person I once was, before I was “Marissa Jones, successful career woman,” with my own apartment and life.
And Nash.
I scrunched my eyes shut. Nash. He was amazing, everything I could want in a man. My freak-outs didn’t faze him in the least, he was kind and sweet, heart-stoppingly handsome, quite possibly the best kisser on the planet, and the man packed a good picnic. All in all, he was perfect.
But he wasn’t Eddie.
I let out a heavy sigh. I stood up and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. Perhaps coffee could help me out of my malaise?
“Hey,” Ryan grunted from his habitual spot on the sofa. “Your headache any better?”
“Headache? Oh, yeah. It’s better, thanks.” I pulled a tub of coffee out of the pantry and proceeded to make myself a cup. “Want one?” I offered Ryan.
“Sure.”
With the coffee made, we sat in silence, side-by-side on my sofa, nursing our respective mugs. Some cop show I don’t watch on TV was set to mute.
“Nash seems nice,” Ryan said, his eyes on the screen, his words punctuating the silence.
“Yes. Yes, he is,” I replied.
He was right, Nash was nice. So nice. He had got on so well with everyone, laughing and talking about anything and everything. I’d felt so close to him, all evening, stealing glances at one another, not being able to stop smiling when our eyes had met.
I was sure he was the guy for me.
Or, at least, I was sure he was, until I saw Eddie.
“You seeing him today?” Ryan asked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
I thought about our plans. Before my “headache,” we had agreed to meet at his place so I could see Lucky and the puppies, then head out to the dog park with Dex, the one we had gone to on our first ever date. Nash had joked it would be a “reclamation of the space,” imitating those hipster types with the ironic man buns who liked to talk in that pretentious way. It had been funny at the time.
Now? Not so much.
I bit my lip. “I’m meant to see him, yes,” I replied.
“Mind if I turn this back up? It’s getting to the good part.” Ryan scooped up the remote lying on the cushion between us.
I shrugged. “Sure.” I had no interest in watching cops chase baddies, but anything was better than the inner turmoil currently duking it out in my brain.
“Oh, your phone’s been beeping like mad this morning,” Ryan said, nodding at my phone, sitting on the coffee table in front of me.
I reached out and picked it up. There were messages from Cassie and Paige and Bailey, all raving about Nash: how charming he was, how good-looking he was, how nice he was. Paige waxed lyrical over no less than seven messages about how she simply knew he was The One for me and how lucky I was to have found him.
I let out a heavy sigh. They were right, all of them. Nash was amazing, and I was incredibly lucky to have him. So, why did I feel like this?
My phone beeped in my hand once more. Expecting another message extoling Nash’s perfection, I glanced at the screen. My heart stopped.
I need to see you.
It was from Eddie.
My mind began to race. What did he mean? Why did he need to see me, not just want to see me? Did he want to apologize again? Maybe he was doing some sort of twelve-step program to become a better human being or something? I could be one of those people he needed to apologize to, to make recompense.
I scrunched my eyes shut, then opened them again to look at the screen. Yup, message still there, still from Eddie.
There had to be an explanation for this. The cogs in my brain continued to whir.
Was the message meant for me, or was his fiancée also called Marissa, by some weird cosmic coincidence?
Okay, so I realized that one was probably a long shot, but I was open to all possibilities.
With trembling fingers, I typed a one-word message back.
Why?
I held my breath, not taking my eyes from my screen. When his message arrived, the beep made me almost levitate off the sofa.
Because I can’t stop thinking about you.
My breath hitched in my throat. Okay, so that was no twelve-step program.
I typed out a quick reply, my finger hovering over the “send” button for a moment. I pressed it, chewing my lip.
You’re engaged.
My phone pinged once more.
Not anymore.
What?!
My eyes almost popped out of my head. Eddie was no longer engaged? When had that happened? With fingers I could barely control, I opened up my Facebook app and typed in his name, misspelling it several times in the process. Finally, I found it. Relationship status, where was relationship status? Bingo.
Single.
Oh, my god. I slumped back on the sofa, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Eddie was single?
Ryan laughed, pulling me back to reality. “This guy is freakin’ stupid if he can’t see who the killer is,” he commented, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” I replied, not knowing who the “freakin’ stupid” guy was, but happy, for once, Ryan was preoccupied with the TV.
I glanced at the large carriage clock on the wall. I needed to shower and get ready to leave. I had another date with Nash, perfect, wonderful Nash.
And I needed to push Eddie and his single-slash-engaged-slash-completely confusing status as far from my mind as was humanly possible.
Chapter 15
I arrived at Nash’s place at eleven, as arranged. I would have loved to have been able to say I had conquered my inner turmoil, but I had only managed to park my conflicting feelings about Eddie to the back of my mind, where they had begun to fester like smelly food left in the refrigerator too long.
Try as I might, I couldn’t forget the fact Eddie had called off his engagement. When did that happen? Was it before or after we bumped into one another last night? And if it was after, did I have anything to do with it? Did he do it for me?
I stood on Nash’s doorstep and
tried to collect my thoughts. I needed to focus on the present, not the past. Nash was my present; Eddie was my past. He wasn’t relevant to me anymore.
“Hey, beautiful,” Nash said as he opened the door. “You look amazing.” He pulled me in for an embrace, kissing me on the lips.
I breathed in his scent, reminding myself how wonderful he was, and how, together, we had conquered my commitment-phobia. That had to mean something: something big, something important, something real.
Didn’t it?
We followed the usual routine of closing the front door before opening the door to the living room. We didn’t want any puppy escapees, and the pups had grown in ability and confidence since I first met them. As Nash swung the door open, I prepared to be mobbed—and mobbed I most certainly was. I crouched on the floor, the puppies treating me like a jungle gym, crawling all over me, licking me, their enthusiasm radiating out of their canine paws.
“You’re a hit,” Nash commented, smiling down at the six of us on the floor.
I stood back up, scooping Lucky up in my arms. She licked my neck with an enthusiasm I would love to feel today, making it tingle. She was warm and fluffy, and I couldn’t help but clutch her against my chest, enjoying our uncomplicated closeness.
Gretel, the puppies’ mom, nuzzled me, her tail wagging, and I patted her on the head. She looked so much healthier now. Nash had done a great job caring for her and her puppies.
“Do you want to play with the pups for a while? I’ll go get Dexter ready to go to the park.”
I tore my attention away from the lick-y, wriggly fur ball in my hands and looked at Nash. He was wearing his habitual shorts and T-shirt, a cap atop his head. My heart contracted as I looked into his smiling blue eyes. I smiled back at him. “Sure.”
I sat back down on the hardwood floor, playing with the puppies. Two of them took the opportunity to investigate their surroundings further, but Lucky stuck by me. I stroked her fur from her head to her tail. “You don’t have ex-boyfriend problems, do you?” I asked her quietly. She licked my hand in response, and I smiled at her. “No, you don’t. You’re the sensible one.”
A moment later, Nash walked into the room with Dexter on a lead. His tail whacked against the side of the armchair as he spotted me with the puppies, their mom still by my side.
“Shall we head off? We can leave the pups in here with Gretel now. I’ve removed any stray slippers,” Nash said with a chuckle.
“Sure.” I looked back down at Lucky. There was something about being here with her uncomplicated affection I was reluctant to leave. I picked Lucky up and gave her a light kiss atop her head, leaving a dash of lipstick. “Oh, Lucky. That won’t do at all.” I rubbed it off with my fingers as best I could before placing her back on the floor with the other puppies and her mom.
I pushed myself up off the floor and brushed my jeans down, ridding them of only about half the fluff the dogs had deposited there. I didn’t care in the least. I would have stayed here with them all day, if I could.
The puppies safely enclosed in the living room, Nash locked the door to the house and we walked down the driveway to his truck. As he opened the car for Dexter to jump in, I pulled my phone out of my purse. I had told myself I wouldn’t check my phone.
After the conversation Eddie and I had had earlier, it was nothing short of date suicide.
Call it a lack of adult judgment, my commitment-phobia rearing its ugly head, or just plain old-fashioned curiosity, but something told me to check my phone. As I flipped it over in my hand I saw it, the words I’d wanted from Eddie for seven years:
I made a mistake.
I blinked at the screen as another message flashed up.
I’m at our place. Meet me there. Please.
In an instant, I was back at the beach we used to go to when we were together, a beach I had never been able to return to since. That beach was the place we had first kissed, the place we had first said those three little magic, wonderful words to one another. Asking me to meet him there could only mean one thing.
He was still in love with me.
I clutched onto my phone, watching Nash opening his door. He looked over at me, his face crinkling in concern when he took in my face.
“Marissa?” A few short steps with his long legs and he was by my side. “You’ve gone pale.”
“I . . . I . . .” I stuttered. I looked down at the words on my phone, my heart thudding so loudly I was surprised Nash couldn’t hear it.
“Is it your headache? Do you need to lie down? How about a glass of water?”
Nash was trying his best to help me, but I was barely taking his words in. I knew he couldn’t help me. I knew that deep, deep down.
I looked up at him, resolved. “I have to go.”
“Can I drive you?” he offered, rubbing my arms.
A pang of guilt hit me, right in the chest. “No, I . . . I think it’s my headache. I can drive. I’ll—” What? I’ll do what? “I’ll call you later,” I managed as I took a step back from him, the lie sitting uncomfortably on my lips.
“As long as you’re sure,” Nash replied.
I forced a smile, my belly twisting. “Yes. Look, I’m sorry about this. I will call you when I’m . . . ah, feeling better.”
Without looking up into his eyes, I turned on my heel and walked the few paces to my car. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t be here with Nash. Not after Eddie’s words, not knowing he was no longer engaged. Not knowing he wanted to meet me in our special place. I had to know what it meant. I had to see him.
Without a backward glance, I started my car and pulled out, heading to the beach I once knew and loved.
And to the man I had never stopped loving.
* * *
After gripping the steering wheel so hard I was surprised I didn’t snap it in two, I pulled into the gravel park next to our old beach. The traffic over the bridge north had been light enough that I made it there in only thirty-five minutes, enough time to run through every possible scenario in my head.
I climbed out of my car, slipped off my sneakers, and walked across the golden sand of the small beach, my heart in my mouth.
I spotted Eddie sitting, looking out at the sea, his arms wrapped around his knees. His shirt was pulled taut across his strong, muscular back, his shoes dropped casually at his side.
My breathing short and shallow, I took slow, deliberate steps toward him, until I was only a few feet away.
As though sensing my presence, he turned around and looked directly at me with such longing, I swear my heart stopped. In one, swift moment, he was up on his feet, covering the short distance between us as I stood, rooted to the spot.
“Marissa,” is all he said, his intense green eyes the color of the sea.
He reached out to me and I recoiled. I wasn’t ready to be touched by him. Not yet. Maybe, not ever.
His handsome face creased into an uncertain smile. “I’m so glad you came.”
I nodded at him, biting my lip. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I barely knew what I was doing here, with him, in this place.
I needed to hear what he had to say.
Luckily, I didn’t need to wait for long.
“Marissa, I need you to know something.”
I looked intently at him, holding my breath, my hands clenched at my sides.
“It’s you, Marissa. It’s always been you.”
“Wha—what are you saying?” I breathed, scarcely believing his words.
He took my cold hand in his. Although my body stiffened at his touch, I loosened my hand out, allowing his hand to warm mine. “I’m saying, I’m still in love with you.”
My eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You’re what?”
He grinned at me, as though what he was saying was the best news in the world. “I’m still in love with you, Marissa. Without even knowing I was doing it, I have compared every woman I’ve dated since we broke up to you and they—”
“Since you left me
,” I corrected, interrupting him, the memory smarting like a collective wasp sting.
He hung his head. “Yeah. Since I left you.” Looking up at me again, he added, “Something I’ve regretted every day. Marissa, don’t you see? Those other women came up short. It’s you. You’re The One.” His eyes shone, his face beaming.
I, on the other hand, was reeling, my legs rendered virtually inoperable. I regarded him, slack-jawed, trying to take in what he was telling me. He loved me. He’d always loved me. He regretted leaving me. I was The One.
I had wanted to hear him say he had made a mistake, that he should never have left me, that I was the love of his life, for so many long, long years. And now, he was finally saying it, standing on the beach, in the very spot he had first professed his love for me all those years ago.
Finally, I had what I had wanted.
“Wh-what happened to your fiancée?”
“She’s gone. It had been over for a long time, just neither of us had admitted it. And then, seeing you? Marissa, I knew I had to be with you. So, I called it off.”
My hand flew to my chest. He left his fiancée for me?
“You called off your engagement for . . . for me?”
“Yes.” His smile reached his eyes, lighting up his face, bringing back a flood of memories: the good times, the happy times, when we were in love and life felt full of possibilities.
“But . . . this wasn’t just a girlfriend. You were going to get married.”
He let out a puff of air, shifting his hand in mine. “She wasn’t right for me. It took seeing you for me to realize that. You, Marissa, wonderful, perfect you.”
My heart expanded. Wonderful, perfect me.
“So?” He questioned when I remained silent, standing there, goggling him like a stunned fish. “What do you say?”
My heart pounded as I thought of Nash—kind, fun, sweet, gorgeous Nash. I was convinced he was the guy for me, that together, we could make it.
Three Last First Dates Page 14
