“I spoke to my mother,” she explained as she sat on the sofa in his living room. “Rashad apparently called her. She thought I would appreciate him coming here, trying to make amends with me.”
“Because you never told her you were seeing me, right?” Keith surmised.
“Well...” she hedged. “I didn’t, but the wedding was her focus.”
“I told Brandon.”
“And I told my best friend, Maeve. Keith, it’s not my fault that my mother thought she could play matchmaker. No matter what I said about how he hurt me, she felt I needed to forgive Rashad.”
“Maybe you do.”
The words were like a bomb. They shattered her. “Excuse me?”
“He came all this way,” Keith said, shrugging. “Maybe there’s still something between the two of you, even if you’re too mad at him right now to see it.”
How could he say this to her? After the time they’d spent together, how connected they were when they made love? She’d given herself to him so completely. Didn’t he realize that?
“You think I spent the night trying to contact you, driving around to find you, getting no sleep, because I want to be with Rashad?”
“Relationships are complicated,” he said, his expression was blank. His face unreadable. “Your own parents’ relationship proves that, doesn’t it?”
“My mother’s situation is her situation. I came here not expecting to make any connection to this place, or to like anybody. And I most certainly didn’t expect to like you. But...” Her voice trailed off. She wanted to see something from him, a flinch, the shifting of his eyes. Anything. But he continued to regard her with a blank expression.
“I think what happened between us was very clearly a case of passing the time.”
Never had words hurt her so completely. “Passing the time? You think I slept with you because I was bored?” She couldn’t prevent the rising sound of hysteria in her voice. Her heart was breaking, and Keith didn’t even seem to care.
“Maybe a better word is that I was a distraction. Look, I fully understand you’re angry with Rashad. You want to move on. But how many times do people get sucked back into the vortex of a relationship with someone because it’s familiar?”
This wasn’t the man she had fallen for. The man who had understood her pain and talked her through it. This one wasn’t even listening to her. “What exactly are you saying?”
“You have unresolved issues with your ex. Whether you realize it or not.”
A feeling of horror filled her belly like a lead ball. It was dawning on her, really hitting her, what he was saying. She wanted to resolve things, but he was telling her that he didn’t trust that she had moved on.
Maybe she was being irrational, given how everything had played out, but she wanted him to fight for her, not just give up.
Unless there was nothing for him to fight for in his opinion. Maybe he had just been passing the time...
Rita swallowed, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. “I think I’m getting it now. You said passing the time, basically saying that was my motivation.” Slowly, she got to her feet. “But that’s what you were feeling. That’s what you were doing.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what tourists do, isn’t it?” she said, her voice cracking a little bit. “They come to town and have a summer fling. Meaningless, right?”
“I’m not saying that what we had—”
“Do you want a relationship with me?” Rita asked. She needed a direct answer.
Finally, she saw his jaw flinch. It took a beat before he spoke. “You need... You need to work things out with Rashad.”
Rita’s body actually swayed, as though the ground beneath her had shifted.
And it had. Keith had just pulled the proverbial rug out from under her.
“Oh, my God.”
“He still loves you. And he made a comment that I can’t refute. I’m involved where I shouldn’t be.”
“So what we had...”
“I’ve played this game before, Rita. I know how it ends.”
Rita took a few steps backward, disoriented. “Game. Passing the time. My God, I’ve been an idiot.”
For the first time, she saw a look of pain cross Keith’s face. “Rita, please—don’t misunderstand and don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Make what harder than it needs to be? You dumping me?”
“You owe it to Rashad—”
“Oh, stop using Rashad as an excuse.” Rita blinked back her tears. “I have to get out of here.”
She turned as fast as she could, and stumbled to the door, tears in her eyes. She barely made it onto the porch before she was crying. She had come here to make him understand that Rashad was her past, that she felt bad for letting him walk away yesterday. Instead, he was telling her that she needed to give Rashad another chance.
He would never tell her that if he loved her. Never.
Passing the time.
He had been projecting onto her the very thing he had been doing. And oh, God, it hurt. It hurt so much.
She loved him, but he didn’t love her. It was as simple as that.
Rita got behind the wheel of her car, and cried for a good few minutes. Then she wiped the tears from her eyes so that she could see to drive.
She started the car, then looked toward Keith’s front door.
He wasn’t there.
And that told her everything she needed to know.
* * *
A good twenty minutes after Rita had left, Keith stayed seated in the same spot on the sofa, pain whirling inside him. The look on her face kept flashing in his mind. The look of pain and betrayal.
He should have gotten up and chased after her. But he hadn’t. He let her go. He let her think the worst, because it was the best way.
The only way.
He’d chased Maya, assured her that they would have an amazing future. But she’d left anyway. Married her ex.
No, Keith had to let Rita go. But watching her leave had been the hardest thing he’d done in a long while.
He got up and went to the kitchen, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest. He had told himself that once she left he would feel a sense of acceptance, that he would know in his heart he had done the right thing. Instead, his heart felt like it was splitting in two.
Maybe a walk around the lake. Maybe a visit to the community center. He swallowed. He’d done those things with Rita. How could he do them now without thinking of her?
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, then put it back. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock. He couldn’t start drinking. Besides, it wasn’t going to numb the pain.
“It hurts now,” he told himself, heading instead to the coffeemaker. “But it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. The pain will subside soon enough.”
* * *
But three days later, the pain hadn’t subsided. If anyone were to see him now, they would think he was a homeless person. He hadn’t shaved; he looked unkempt. But he didn’t care.
He was working from home—allegedly. Instead, he was right now sitting in his armchair with his laptop, looking over the details of the same property he’d been looking over for the last twenty minutes.
The knock at the door had his heart filling with hope. He put the laptop on the coffee table and quickly headed to answer it. He flung it open, and though he didn’t think he’d see Rita there, he felt a sense of disappointment more profound than he expected when he saw Brandon.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Brandon quipped, a wry smile on his face.
“What’s up?” The words barely croaked out of Keith’s throat.
“Shouldn’t you be the one telling me what’s up? You look like death warmed over.” Brandon lifted a six-pack of beer. “Why don’t you invite me in and
tell me all about it.”
“Yeah.” Keith cleared his throat. “Sure.”
Though sitting back and having a beer was the last thing he wanted. He wandered into the living room nonetheless. He didn’t want to talk; he just wanted to forget. Sooner or later the days would pass and he would eventually feel better.
“Have you talked to Rita?” Brandon asked once they were in the living room.
Keith shrugged. “Not really.”
Brandon placed the six-pack on the coffee table. “You either have or you haven’t.”
“Are these cold?” Keith asked, reaching for a beer.
“Yep.”
Keith discovered that they were in fact cold the instant he bent over to pluck a can from the box. As he stood tall, Brandon clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “You hear what happened to that Rashad guy?”
The question piqued Keith’s interest. “I heard he packed up and left town. That’s all I know.”
“The big baby was practically laughed out of the hospital. They gave him a Kleenex and a Band-Aid and sent him home.”
“Really?”
“That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the point is, he wasn’t really hurt.”
Keith popped the lid on the can and drank some of his beer. Three days after the wedding, that scene had yet to stop playing in his mind. That and Rita rushing to his side...
“Did Rita tell you what happened when she went to see him?” Brandon asked.
“She went to see him?” Keith asked.
“I assume she did.” Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Haven’t you talked to her?”
Keith slumped onto the sofa. “Man, what’s with all the questions?”
“So you haven’t? You just let her leave town?”
Keith’s jaw tightened. “She—she’s gone?”
“Keith... What the heck are you doing? You just let her leave without talking to her?”
“We talked. I told her to work it out with her ex.”
Brandon looked at him as though he’d grown horns. “Are you out of your mind?”
Keith drank more beer. “You don’t remember Maya?”
“Come on, Maya was always a flake. Didn’t I tell you that? Rita isn’t. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister.”
“Mark my words. She’s gonna get back together with the dude. They always do.”
Brandon shook his head. “You really love her, don’t you?”
Keith shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. But the question had his heart stirring, a fresh wave of pain hitting him.
“And you just let her go.”
Keith said nothing.
“So you, a six-foot-three strong guy, were too much of a coward to talk to her. That’s what you’re telling me?”
Keith shot his friend an irritated glare. Brandon was his best friend, so he knew him well. He knew what he’d gone through after Maya. “Did you expect me to chase her? Make her believe for a moment that she wanted something she doesn’t want? And then after couple of months, she decides she’s out of here?” He shook his head. “Naw, I’ve been through that before. Played that game. It was best that she left now.”
“Best for whom?”
“For both of us,” Keith replied, but the words lacked conviction.
“Keith, you love her. I can see that as plain as day. And the Keith Burke I know doesn’t let some other guy dictate his future. You’re making a whole lot of assumptions based on your experience with a girl who was never that into you. Yeah—” Brandon said, holding up a hand when Keith opened his mouth “—I’m saying it. Maya wasn’t the one for you. Rita... I think she is.”
Despite himself, Brandon’s words gave Keith the slightest hope. Was he sitting here holed up in his house being a coward? Because he didn’t want to get hurt again?
No one wanted to get hurt.
Rita certainly didn’t want to get hurt, either. But Keith had not been able to stop thinking about the look in her eyes when he’d sent her away. Maya had never looked at him like that. Damn, his friend was right.
“I don’t know, Brandon. I guess I was thinking... You know how the saying goes... If you love something set it free, and if it comes back to you—”
“But what if it’s too injured to come back to you? Did you ever think of that?”
Brandon’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. God, what had he been thinking? If Rita didn’t want Rashad, how would she ever want him after how he’d treated her?
She wouldn’t. And suddenly Keith knew what he had to do. He got to his feet. “Brandon, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. There’s something I need to do.”
A slow smile spread on Brandon’s lips. “That’s it, my friend.” He stood up. “Stop sulking and go get your girl.”
* * *
Rita returned to St. Louis, vowing to get over Keith, but two weeks later, she couldn’t deny that her heart was still broken. She’d allowed herself a few solid days to mourn, then had gotten back to work. But she was only working from home, mostly so that she could eat tubs of ice cream in bed and cry whenever she wanted. The office had strict word to tell anyone who called for her that she was on a cruise.
“Maybe you ought to try talking to him again,” Maeve suggested. She was sitting beside Rita on her sofa, looking at her with concern. “Honestly, I don’t even remember you being this upset when things ended with Rashad.”
“I blocked him,” Rita said. “I’ve had some calls from unknown numbers, but I’m not answering them.”
“You think it’s him?” Maeve asked.
“I don’t care.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it needed to be true. If Keith could so easily disregard what she had to say to him, she needed to move on. Her view that men were unfeeling beings had been solidified the day she’d left his place, heartbroken. It was time she concentrated on her career, on moving forward and forgetting that men ever existed. Her life would be better off for it.
“I think you need to at least have a conversation with him. You’re sitting around here, gaining weight from all the ice cream you’re eating. You need closure.”
“I’m gaining weight?” Rita asked.
“Well, maybe not yet. But you will.” Maeve sighed. “Just talk to him. And for God’s sake, reactivate your social media accounts in case he’s trying to reach you.”
“Then what would be the point of blocking him?” Rita countered. “I’m fine. All I need is a bit of time. I’m not the first woman to be heartbroken. I won’t be the last. Maybe I’ll even write a story about it for my magazine.”
Maeve shook her head at her. “Maybe this is what you wanted. With all those stories of gloom and doom and heartbreak, maybe there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to be happy.”
“What?”
Maeve got up from the sofa. “I’ve got to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere where I can smile, laugh. Maybe even flirt. And when you’re ready to do the same, call me.”
Rita’s heart slammed against her rib cage as Maeve walked to the door. “You’re leaving me? We didn’t even order takeout yet.”
Maeve continued to the door. Rita thought she was going to leave without a word, but she paused and looked back. “You know I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, and gave her a smile.
* * *
Maybe it was Maeve’s frank words, but Rita got up the next morning and went to the office. She needed a change of pace. She needed the sunshine on her skin, the wind in her hair.
She had alerted the senior editor that she would be arriving around eleven o’clock. They needed to have an editorial meeting about the next issue.
When she arrived, her coworkers looked at her from wide eyes, as if they were stunned to see her, even though they should have known she was coming in. Rita offered them a tig
ht smile, continuing to her office without breaking stride.
“Madeline,” Rita said, addressing the junior editor who was standing near the water cooler. “I’ll be in the boardroom in ten minutes. Please make sure everyone’s there for the meeting.”
Madeline hurried over to her. “There’s a story that was submitted to me and I’d really like it included in this issue.”
“You know I’ve already approved the stories for the next issue. There’s no room for any additions.”
“Before the meeting, I think you should read it.” Madeline looked at her with a pleading expression. “You’re always telling me I should stand up for the stories I believe in, take some initiative. Well, I want you to read the story before the meeting. It’s interesting because it’s from a man’s perspective.”
Rita was about to say no, but she glanced at her watch. She had fifteen minutes before the meeting was to begin. She could start going through the story, and if it caught her fancy, she could continue reading it. This way she could at least honestly tell Madeline what she thought of it.
“Okay. You’re right—I am always telling you to take some initiative. I’ll have a glance at it. But I’m still not sure it can fit into this issue.”
Madeline smiled. “Just read it, then tell me what you think.”
Rita went into her office and sat behind her desk. She saw the printed sheets of papers there with the title, “A Fool’s Regret.”
Interesting title, she thought. Then she began to read.
Sometimes a man has everything he wants, everything he needs, and still he lets it slip out of his hands. My story begins one day in the summer, in early August. I wasn’t expecting the woman of my dreams to come into my life at that moment. There was nothing especially significant about that day. Nothing to prepare me for the way my life would irrevocably change.
Nice opening, Rita thought.
I was simply stopping for a coffee at a shop in town when the car rear-ended me. Not the greatest start to most romances, I guess.
Rita dropped the paper. She looked around the office, as though expecting Keith to appear. Was this... No. It couldn’t be.
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