Chandler stroked my hair while I sobbed on his dress shirt. And he said words that were probably very hard for him to say, yet were exactly what I wanted to hear. “He’s still into you. There’s no way he’s not. You’re beautiful and strong and sexy. And perfect. There isn’t getting over you, Gwenny. He’s still yours.”
I let myself be comforted by him. By a man who didn’t have a former love to compare me with. By a man who hadn’t yet found the “love of his life.” Or maybe he had.
As my chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths, exhaustion overtook me and I fell into sleep, reveling in how good it felt to be held. How warm. And, at the edge of consciousness, I wondered if it was really the worst thing to be loved by a nice boy. Wasn’t it better than competing with a dead girl?
Chapter Six
“You have to come,” Alayna said, with almost the right amount of pleading to make me give in to whatever she wanted.
It was Tuesday, the day I came in early so she and I could work together before she went home and I stayed to run the club. She and Liesl, a bartender we’d recently promoted to manager, were rearranging stock behind the main bar. I’d brought the laptop down from the office so I could be with them and still attack my to-do list.
Now I was regretting that decision. Not just because I wasn’t getting much done, but also because I didn’t want to be having this particular conversation. The one where Laynie and Liesl and Ben—another distraction who’d stopped by unexpectedly—tried to convince me that I’d rather be on Hudson’s harbor cruise for the fireworks than at home. Alone.
I was standing my ground. “You won’t even notice I’m not there. You and Hudson are so into the baby-making, I’m sure you’ll be locked away in a cabin somewhere all night.”
“As if babies have anything to do with it,” Liesl said from the floor where she was crouched. “They probably banged just as hard last year, and I’m guessing they never needed a cabin.”
The blush on Laynie’s face said that her friend had hit the nail exactly on the head.
Ben perked up. “Is this a free-love kind of an event? That will change what I’m going to wear. And if I wear what I’m thinking I’ll wear, you’ll want to be there to see it.”
I rolled my eyes, but inside I paused a moment to reflect how far Ben had come from the suicidal boy he’d been before. Now he was social and funny and happy. Was it all only because he’d found someone to love him through it all?
That was probably too simple. He was a strong kid and would likely have recovered eventually anyway. But having the right guy sure seemed to help.
Laynie’s eyes blazed as she pointed a stern finger at Ben. “It is definitely not a free love event. Keep it in the pants, Anders!”
“Yeah, don’t embarrass me, little brother,” I teased. “Whatever you wear, you can take pictures. Trust me, you don’t need me. You’ll have Eric to keep you preoccupied. And Norma will have Boyd, even if they have to sneak around about it.” I nodded at Laynie. “And you’ll have Hudson. I’ll be a third wheel. Or seventh wheel. Ninth wheel if Mira and Adam are going to be there.”
“They are.” Laynie adored Hudson’s little sister, Mira, and while I didn’t know her as well as I would have liked to, I’d always enjoyed her company.
But even Mira wasn’t enough to draw me out for the holiday. “Besides, I really should be here instead. It’s probably going to be busy, and I’m not sure it’s really responsible to have both of us out on such a big night.”
Laynie turned and directed her finger at me. “No. You will not work. That is not an option. Nathan and Liesl can manage without us. And it’s not too late to find a date, if you want one. I don’t know a lot of people, but Mira could whip someone up.” She paused before adding, “Chandler will be there, you know.”
My shoulders tensed at the mention of Chandler. It had been just a little over a week since I’d fallen asleep with him on my couch. When we’d woken up, he’d made me something to eat while I got ready for work, then he’d walked me down to the street and hailed me a cab. He’d hugged me again but hadn’t even tried to kiss me goodbye.
His distance—which I’d asked for—was appreciated. But at the same time, I’d found myself thinking about him at odd times, wondering if I’d blown him off too soon. The thought hadn’t escalated into action—yet. He’d texted a couple of times, short messages asking how I was, but nothing inappropriate. He seemed to get that he and I were done. Or, he was simply giving me space before pouncing again.