“If you can play Cupid, bring it on, sweetheart. But enough about me. Why don’t you quit worrying about emotion and tell me about Spence.”
“You already know him, Grandma, probably better than I do.”
“Let’s just pretend I’ve lost my memory. I want to hear what you think about him, who you think he is.”
Sage leaned back in her chair and thought about it. Who was Spence?
“He’s . . . well, he’s kind and brilliant. The most talented doctor I’ve ever worked with. He’s funny, and knows his job so well. He knows when to be serious and when to laugh. Everyone we meet loves him. We can’t go anywhere without getting stopped. People just want to chat with him. He has this smile—oh, his smile—it’s so bright, so infectious. He’s spontaneous, and likes to jump right in with both feet, but he also knows when something needs careful planning. And the way he looks at me . . . it . . . it just makes me feel like I’m the only person on the planet.”
Bethel didn’t say anything, and Sage realized she’d been going on and on. She closed her eyes and pictured the Christmas tree, the tree she and Spence had found together and how it had become perfect because he had been perfect. She thought of fishing in Seattle, of the intimate club, of the laughter on the ski slope. She thought of those moments in the hospital when he’d cornered her in a dark room and left her breathless.
Every memory with him made her smile. She never knew what to expect when he showed up, but she wasn’t frightened by that uncertainty. She knew whatever he had planned would make her smile, would be a new adventure.
“I do love him—really love him. But what if it’s because it’s new? What if it does fade?”
“Then you’ll survive and you’ll learn ways to keep it fresh,” Bethel said.
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that. Haven’t you survived the most tragic of circumstances?”
“Yes. I still open my eyes sometimes in the morning and expect Mom to be right there.” Even if she did accept what was right in front of her, and then somehow lost it, she would survive that, too. Nothing could be as bad as losing her parents, not even losing the man who was already wedged tightly into her heart.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Sage asked.
“What doesn’t matter?” Now it was Bethel’s turn to be confused.
“I’m already invested. I’ve been dwelling on this for days, trying to rationalize it, trying to figure out how to make this black-and-white, how to outline it and tuck all my emotions into nice little corners. But the bottom line is that I love him. Whether I lose him now or in ten years or in sixty, it doesn’t matter. It will hurt no matter what. I can’t go back now.”
“No, no, you can’t,” Bethel said with a grin.
“Well, being in love stinks.” Now, her grandma could call her a child all she wanted. Sage stood up, then leaned down and kissed Bethel’s cheek. “I love you,” she said, then she moved through the house and went upstairs.
She didn’t even have the energy to go home. Being at her grandmother’s would always be home, though. Falling into her old bed, she drifted to sleep, her only solace.
Grace was expressionless as she faced Camden. Why did he have to keep pushing her? Why wouldn’t he just let this go?
“Do you really think this will all just fade away, that you can keep lying to your friends, the people who care about you?”
“I don’t have friends,” she said, putting an emphasis on the S at the end of the word friends.
“Come on, Grace. I’ve known you since you were a kid,” Camden said, blowing out his breath as he paced her small apartment.
“You’re certainly not my friend, Camden. Please don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you are,” she snapped, going to her fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
“There was a time when we were more than friends, Grace.” She turned to find him right behind her, way too close for her comfort. “You know I would never purposely hurt you.”
“Ha. That’s amusing, Camden. It’s amazing how you can twist our history. The only friend I have is Sage, and I don’t want to pull her into this. I’m going to live my life, and if everything goes to hell, I guess that will just happen.”
There was no possible way that she was giving this man ground—or anything else. He’d already taken her heart eight years before. Then he’d smashed it into tiny little pieces and he’d never looked back.
“I’m offended that you think so little of me, Grace.”
“I have a feeling you’ll get over it. Just put an ad on Facebook telling all the lonely singles that you need some consoling.”
“Why are you such a pain?” he practically shouted.
“Maybe because that’s how I survive. You can either deal with it or you can stay the hell away from me. I’ve already told you I have nothing to say and I’ve been more than clear that I don’t want your help. I don’t care what anyone does or says, I will not cower in a corner.”
“I’m not asking you to cower in the corner, but you don’t need to put out flashing neon lights saying Look at Me.”
She knew he wasn’t dealing well with the situation. They’d already had this conversation a million times now, ever since he’d received that blasted file, ever since her father—not that he deserved the title—had royally screwed her over.
“Maybe I’m a girl who likes to play games—dangerous games, Camden. Maybe I’ve decided my life has been boring so far. Maybe, just maybe, I’m the perfect protégée for my parents,” she said, sending him a wink and shrug.