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I end up crashing into him. Cracks and crumbles within my bags prove I’ve smashed the crackers too. He lifts his arms and catches me before we both topple over. “Whoa. Are you alright? Is someone after you?”
Tears burn again as I shake my head. I feel so stupid, so out of sorts. I could have sworn it was him, but now I see that it’s nothing but my wishes being projected onto reality.
“No, no one is after me.” Just the demon of my mistakes.
“Oh.” He gives me another doubtful look, then glances at the grocery bags I’ve smushed between us when I smacked into him.
Crap. I hope he’s not the parent of one of my new students. If I have to face him at a parent-teacher conference, it’ll be so awkward.
I go home to my apartment and close the door. My heart continues to sink, heavy with so much sadness that it hurts to breathe fully. I lock the door and pace. I’m not acting like myself, chasing down strangers like a wacko.
I can’t keep this up. I need to have my wits about me, and in an edgy moment of wishing I could speak to him and hear his voice, I pull my phone out of my pocket. Back and forth, I wear down the tread in the older carpet of my new home. I pace, then pace some more, all the while I hold my phone like a lifeline. I’m about to call him. I rehearse what I want to say, but it doesn’t matter how many times I trek from one wall to the other, none of my rehearsals feel right.
I’m still too cautious, and I change my mind, locking my phone from the calling icon.
I sink to the floor, sliding my back along the closed door. On the carpet, I curl on myself, resting my head on my arms that I’ve folded on top of my knees.
I’m all cried out, and with dry but irritated eyes, I zone out at the carpet at my feet.
Will I ever get over him? Regret washes over me and I cringe, knowing I should’ve been honest with him about how I felt. Now, there is not a single thing I can do.
He’s probably back together with Johanna, anyway, living his life as he wants at home.
While I’ll try to make my existence matter with a gaping hole in my heart.
Chapter 33
Dalton
Caleb lets me know when he arrives in New York, and since I’m freeing up my time here, I’m more than happy to pick him up.
“Hey, Leo,” I say in greeting when his private pilot passes us.
He smiles, gives me a thumbs-up, and heads off, already on his phone with someone.
“Nice flight?” I ask my friend.
“Always.” Caleb grins. “The best.”
Instead of heading to my apartment that’s so empty that it feels as clinical as a warehouse, I drive him to the penthouse he has yet to sell.
“I’m not sure if I’ll sell it,” he says when I ask about it. He’s spending so much time in Colorado, he can’t possibly need all this space. Even when Lauren travels with him, this place is huge.
Unless he’s already thinking past marriage and counting on kids, starting a family.
I sigh, bothered that I want that to be my life sooner than later, without being any closer to having it.
“I wouldn’t mind downsizing. I really don’t see a need to come too often.” He glances at me. “I’m not retired yet. Like you.”
I smile. “It feels good.”
“Does it?” he asks seriously. “I love Lauren. I do. I love Marian, too. She’s the mother I never had, but Thatcher Metal Works is my family legacy, and I don’t want to stop working yet.”
“And you shouldn’t. You do you.”
He chuckles as I park. “And you doing you means selling the company you built up since you were eighteen?”
“Like I said, it feels good. I’ll have more time to focus on my foundation work. I’ve never needed the money.” I was born into it, like Caleb was. “I’m fine with taking a step back and going for what makes me happy.”
