This place looks how I feel. Perfect.
“What’ll it be?” the older guy behind the bar asked as he placed a cork coaster in front of me.
“Sam Adams—Boston Lager if you’ve got it. And a shot of bourbon.”
“Comin’ up.” He reached to retrieve a chilled pub glass, eyeing me. “Rough night?”
“Something like that.”
“Welcome to the club,” the bartender chuckled and placed a beer by the glass. Next, he poured a shot of whiskey and put it in front of me.
“Thanks. Keep ’em coming.”
I downed the whiskey, welcoming the familiar burn in the back of my throat. I let it linger just a little too long before chasing it with the beer. I wanted the pain, craved it in fact. Grabbing my phone, I sent Maren a text.
No response.
After countless beers, I made my way back to the hotel, shocked I was even able to find the place. While at the bar, I’d sent Maren at least a dozen texts. When I reached my room, I threw myself on the bed before sending her one last message. And finally, I passed out.
When the morning light woke me up, I groaned at the pounding in my head. My stomach lurched as I rolled over and reached for my phone, hoping to see a reply from Maren. Every single text had gone unanswered. No read receipts. Nothing.
It was really over.
I hurled my phone at the wall and covered my head with a pillow as I attempted to muffle my cries. Thrusting my fist into the mattress, I screamed into the pillow, realizing the gravity of what I’d done. It didn’t matter that my head felt like it might explode. It didn’t matter that I was probably about to puke my guts out. It didn’t matter that I was having the worst hangover of my life. Nothing mattered. Nothing but Maren. And she was gone.
You ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to you.
Nice job, McTavish. You fucking asshole.
Chapter 27
MAREN
Two months later
I’d been staring at my phone’s screen for what felt like an hour, unsure of what to say or how to break the ice…again. I hadn’t seen Peter since San Francisco. He’d come by my apartment the following day, but I pretended I wasn’t home. I was paralyzed by my anger and humiliation. Even thought there was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to open that door, I knew that if I did, we would get back together. I was powerless when it came to Peter McTavish. No one had ever had this effect on me before—that I would forgive just about anything to be with him. And that feeling terrified me to no end. And so I clung to my embarrassment like a warm blanket. It was the only thing that protected me from myself.
He texted, he called, he emailed and sent flowers. But I ignored it all, determined to let this just be the end so I could move on, so I could spend some much-needed time alone. As much as I ached for Peter, I didn’t let myself have any contact with him for fear that my resolve would break and I would let him in once again….once again to break my heart. The only thing he didn’t do was stop by the store. And I appreciated that. He respected the store as my place of work, my professional space where I could focus without dealing with him showing up unannounced. It was very Peter of him not to do that….and it just made me miss him more.
When he left for Japan, I figured having an ocean between us would make it easier to have minimal contact without worrying that he might come to my store or apartment. And so I’d finally responded to a text that he sent me of his tiny apartment. I’d written back, commenting on how cute it was and that it would be impossible for him to mess up such a small space. He’d responded just once and then let it go.
A week later, we had a similar experience. He sent me a short video of a vending machine in Japan that fascinated him. It dispensed hot pizza! His text said, “Pizza 24/7!” And then, in true Peter fashion, he sent me a factoid that Japan has the highest density of vending machines worldwide with one machine for every twenty-three people living in Japan.
I missed his nerdiness. I missed his dad jokes and his obsession with video games and technology. And if I was honest with myself, I missed a whole lot more than that. I missed Peter. Everything about Peter.
We’d been apart for two months, and for the first time, I’d decided to send him a quick and friendly text. But what would I say?
“What are you doing?” Lyra asked. The store was slow as it always was in April. Spring was the time that many people felt strange burning candles and many people tucked them away in cabinets and closets as they ushered in mild temperatures and spring breezes with open windows. We attempted to lure people inside by debuting all sorts of floral scents mixed with fruit, but it didn’t stop us from being dreadfully slow. With less demand came less time for me in the workshop and more time spent on the floor with plenty of time for me to obsess over a simple friendly text to my ex.
“Nothing,” I said, slipping my phone into my store apron.
“Try again.”
“Ugh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I was going to text Peter. But I think you saved me from myself.”
She said nothing but cleared her throat and nodded.
“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”
Lyra looked away hastily.
“Lyra.”
Her eyes met mine. They were soft and unassuming. “I don’t know what to say, but I know you’re not pathetic. You just miss him.”
“I do.”
“It’s okay to miss him, Maren. You were in love.”
I shrugged. “Still am.”
“Then text him.”
I shook my head and crossed my arms, looking out the store window. “Maybe it’s a bad idea. If we keep texting, he might get the wrong idea.”
“What? That you love and miss him?”
“Well, yeah. We’re not getting back together, so it would be sort of cruel, wouldn’t it? Like giving him false hope.”
“Why does it have to be false?” Lyra’s voice drifted into a hushed tone, and the color drained from her face. She was afraid I would erupt again, like I had in weeks past when she suggested I hear Peter out, that maybe Cara was the only person at fault in San Francisco. Every time she did, I would explode, yelling at my best friend as if she’d committed some sort of unforgivable betrayal. The entire month of March consisted of me crying, erupting in anger and staring at my phone. Lovely.
The first half of April was a slight improvement—fewer tears and less anger, but an equal amount of obsession and staring at my phone. Poor Lyra had been walking on eggshells for weeks. It was time to let her off the hook.
“I’m not going to scream at you.”
She scrunched her nose. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think I’ve escaped that phase of this whole thing.”
“Well, that’s good, right? Progress?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together in a fine line. “I guess so. But it still hurts, Lyra. It hurts like nothing ever has before. Shouldn’t it be getting easier now? I miss him so much it physically hurts. I wake up with headaches all the time. And my jaw aches.”
“You’re clenching your teeth. It’s all the stress. My abuela does it every night, so she wears a mouth guard and guess what? No more headaches. Go see your dentist, Mare.”
I heard most of what Lyra said…something about mouth guards and her abuela. I was back to staring at my screen.
“Hey, ask him if he’s seen any crazy vending machines lately. That’ll break the ice. You loved that pizza one.”
“Yeah, good idea.” My fingers typed madly as I asked Peter about the latest in Japanese vending. My stomach flipped when I saw the little dots bounce.
“He’s writing back.”
“Eager beaver,” Lyra muttered, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “Sorry. It’s cute. You tell him to jump, I guarantee he asks how high.”
“I don’t want to torture him.”
“I know. He’s just so crazy about you. He’d do just about anything to get you back. You have to know that.”
“I can’t get past
Cara. And spare me the lecture about how it’s all in my head and she’s just messing with me. There have been way too many coincidences.”
“I agree, there have been a lot. But we’ll have to agree to disagree on the why. I personally think the guy is just as much a victim in all of this as you are. I mean, seriously, have you ever seen Fatal Attraction? That shit is fucked up.”
Peter responded with a video of a vending machine that dispensed ties for businessmen. Apparently, he bought a yellow tie with blue stripes. His message said:
-I spilled udon noodles on my tie yesterday. This saved me a trip back to my apartment.
-Was it expensive?!?
-No! Only 1000 yen! That’s ten bucks!
-Bargain.
“I need a mirror right now.” Lyra said, levity in her voice.
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
“You have a shit-eating grin on your face. You really love him, Mare.”
“I can’t help it. We fall into conversation so easily. It’s effortless, it really is. Even when he’s in another country and my heart is broken.”
“Look, I have to run. I have class in an hour, but remember what I said about Cara. I mean, really…think about it. He’s a good guy.”
I nodded as Lyra gathered her things and headed for the front door of the shop. “Lyra.”
“Yeah?”
“Michael Douglas cheats on his wife in Fatal Attraction… Don’t forget that.”
Lyra sighed, giving me a sarcastic salute before pushing on the heavy door and leaving the shop. I knew I needed to shut down the conversation. If I didn’t, it would only take minutes for me to be sitting on the counter, glued to the screen, and completely under his spell. Again.
-Gotta run. Lots of customers to ring up and no one else is here.
-Oh. Okay, well, thanks for reaching out. I’ll keep sending you vending machines…if that’s okay.
I wasn’t sure how to respond… I knew what he was really asking. Was it okay if he reached out more frequently? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to hurt him, so of course I had to answer in a polite and friendly way, but I had to curb my enthusiasm so that he could keep his expectations in check. I had a feeling he was fishing for my normal, flirty response, “You’d better.” But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t ready for flirtation. I had to stay neutral.
-Sure.
There was a long pause before he finally responded.
-Take care, Maren
I placed my phone back into my purse, fighting tears. They didn’t come as frequently or as powerful, but they still came. I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth.
“Inhala, exhala,” I whispered to myself.
The bell over the front door rang, and I turned to see a very familiar face. A face that brought me comfort and heartache in equal measure. Burton.
“Burton,” I said as I left the counter and walked to him. He pulled me in for a cathartic hug.
“Hello, sweet Maren. I’ve missed you.”
“The feeling is mutual. How are you? How are you feeling?”
“Good as new,” he said, his blue eyes shining brightly as he smiled at me, his hands on my shoulders as he took in the sight of me. “I’m ready for golf season to begin, and I’ve started walking every morning.”
“And Valerie?”
“She’s up to her usual tricks. Kicking ass and taking names.” Burton laughed. “And how are you, my dear?”
“I…I’ve been better.”
He nodded before raising his arms in surrender. “I’m not here to dredge anything up. I know how hard this breakup must be on you. I mean, if my boy is any indication, that is.”
I grimaced, feeling uncomfortable thinking about Peter’s pain. I didn’t feel responsible for it, but it bothered me just the same.
“Yeah, well, it’s been hard.” My eyes were welling with tears, and I willed them to stop. “So, what brings you in today? A present for Valerie, or are you just saying hi?”
“Well, I, uh…I’m here with an invitation, actually.”
“Oh?” My stomach flipped, hoping it didn’t involve Pete. But he was in Japan, how could it possibly include him?
Inhala, exhala.
“My birthday is coming up on May first. And, as you know, I wouldn’t be celebrating this birthday if it wasn’t for you. It’s only fitting that you be there to celebrate with me.”
“Burton, I—”
“I need you there, kiddo.” His words tugged at my heart, and I’d grown used to him calling me kiddo. That one word turned me into putty where Burton was concerned.
“Will Peter be there?”
“No, I didn’t want to ask him to fly home for a meal, so it’ll just be the three of us. I told Val I didn’t want a big party with neighbors and work colleagues and golf buddies. I just want my girls with me.”
Burton calling me one of his girls made my heart melt, and it tore at my emotions. I couldn’t say no to him, nor did I want to. No matter my relationship status with Peter, I would always love and adore his parents. They owned a special corner of my heart. And nothing would change that. Not ever.
“I’d be honored, Burton. Thank you.”
He clapped and grinned. “All right! It’s a date then. I’ll have Valerie text you the details once we pick a place and make a reservation. But pencil us in.”
“May first, got it. I’ll make sure I have coverage for the store.”
“Fantastic.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. “You just made my entire day, kiddo.”
Tears threatened to well all over again as I smiled at him. “And you made mine.”
Chapter 28
PETER
I couldn’t wait to stretch my legs after nine hours on my flight home to Seattle. It was my dad’s birthday, and although he told me not to make a special trip to celebrate, I couldn’t resist conspiring with my mom to surprise him. This birthday was a momentous occasion, and I didn’t want to miss it. I was surprised that he’d opted not to have a party, just a small family dinner, just the three of us. In the back of my mind, I was hoping I could possibly see Maren. Maybe I would invite her for coffee tomorrow morning, no pressure. Just two people enjoying one another’s company before one had to head back to Tokyo. No big deal.
Right.
Of course it was a big deal. It was Maren. I hadn’t seen her since San Francisco—but we were texting more and more. I sent her pictures and videos of the crazy vending machines in Tokyo. It had become a shorthand of sorts for us—an instant icebreaker. I’d sent her two earlier in the week—one I’d found that was devoted to fresh bananas. The entire machine was filled with nothing but bright yellow bananas. And the other was an umbrella machine that I took full advantage of during a heavy rainstorm. I’d forgotten mine back at the apartment and didn’t want to be drenched by the time I arrived at the office. Every few days, I’d send another video or photo, and she’d comment or marvel at the unique offerings. If I forgot to send one, I’d get a casual text asking me for new pictures. It felt good. And I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t hoping it would lead to more and that maybe, just maybe, it would be enough for her to lower her guard and let me in just a little bit. Give me a chance to be in her life again.
Switching my phone out of airplane mode, I texted my mom as she requested. She always wanted to know when I’d landed safely. It was kind of our thing.
-Just landed
-Are you exhausted?
-Kinda. Slept a little bit. I’m sure it’ll hit me later tonight.
-I can’t wait to see you. Your father will be so surprised!
-I hope so. 7 o’clock, right?
-Yes!
-Great. I’m going to pass out at Dev’s for a couple hours.
-I’m sorry you can’t stay with us, honey. It would spoil the surprise.
-No, it’s good. He has a spare bedroom. Totally fine, Mom!
-Okay, then. See you at 7, sweetheart!
Dev was home when
I got to his condo. I chuckled to myself as I took in the sight of his over-the-top clean bachelor pad. Dev was a neat freak and had very high standards for cleanliness. His living room was top-of-the-line leather furniture and a beautiful glass coffee table. His flat-screen TV was the largest I’d ever seen in person and took up almost half the far wall of the room. He was playing video games when I arrived.
“Yo, world traveler! How you doin’, Pete?” He pulled me in for a bear hug, patting me on the back.
“Exhausted, but good.”
“Your room is ready for you and so is the bathroom. Fresh towels too. Inga took care of everything this morning.”
“Inga?”
Dev wagged his eyebrows. “My housekeeper.”
“When did you get a housekeeper?”
“Last year when my bonus came through. Worth every penny, dude.”
I shook my head. “I’ll take your word for it. Listen, is it all right if I take a shower and pass out for a bit before my dad’s dinner?”
“Have at it, man. I’m heading out soon anyway. I’ll see you later though, right?”
“Definitely.”
When Dev mentioned my room was “ready,” he failed to mention the fresh cotton robe laid out at the foot of the bed, the pad of paper and pencil left on one nightstand, or the little bottles of water and mints on the other.
I guess he’s happy I’m here.
I sat down on the bed and checked my messages. I was tempted to reach out to Maren but decided against it. It would be better to ask tomorrow, to be spur of the moment. Besides, it was a Saturday afternoon. I knew she was probably swamped at the store and might have plans that night. I didn’t want to get lost in the shuffle. Adrenaline shot through my stomach as I pictured her on a date with someone. I wasn’t an idiot—I knew Maren was probably dating by now. It had been two months, and there was no reason to think she was sitting around waiting for me to come back from Japan. She broke things off. She was free to do whatever she pleased.
Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel Page 25
