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Anthony came up with a plan to help me get Charly back, but there’s no point if I don’t work through my issues. If I want to be the man she deserves, then I have to believe I can be that man.
“You need to talk to her.” Pete locks his blue eyes on mine. “You need to tell her how you feel, the good and the bad. She might not understand the way we do, but if she’s willing to listen and work through this with you, then you’ve found the right one.”
Emotion surges in my chest.
She’s the one.
“Everyone’s a little broken.” Greta tilts her head. “We’re kind of like crayons. Broken crayons still color, right? We all have something to give, and we can all contribute to the creation of a beautiful picture.”
Steve jerks his thumb in her direction. “Clearly, she’s the insightful one.”
“Well, we know it isn’t you.” A smile stretches my lips. “All right, Greta. You’ve convinced me to learn how to paddle board today.”
Charly
Never go to a Taylor Swift concert when you’re going through a breakup.
Jenny and I had a lot of fun last night, but every damn love song reminded me of Bryce. I must’ve cried about twenty times. The little girl next to me handed me a tissue at one point.
I’m so pathetic.
What’s worse, I came home to write about it in my journal, and realized that I don’t have it. I searched my apartment high and low, but it’s nowhere to be found.
So, that’s it. Mom’s bucket list is complete, and the journal she got me is gone. The summer is officially over for good.
Cold soda pours over my hand as it overflows from the cup. “Shit.” I’ve been walking around the diner in a daze, forgetting orders, and overfilling cups at the fountain. I keep telling myself it’s because I was out late last night, but the truth is, I haven’t been myself since I got back to New York.
Jenny scurries behind the counter, and takes the tray of sodas out of my hands. “Table four needs a menu.”
“Okay, so I’ll drop off a menu on my way to bring these drinks to table six.”
“I’ve got table six for you. Go to table four.”
My eyes narrow. “What is going on? What’s wrong with table four? Is it that creepy dude in the trench coat again? I swear, I think he’s naked under that thing.”
She chews her bottom lip. “Greg is here. He wants to talk to you.”
“Are you kidding me?” I slap my palm against my forehead. “I’d rather get flashed by the trench coat.”
Jenny curls her top lip in disgust. “Eww. Don’t put that out into the universe. Now go. The sooner you talk to Greg the Cheater, the sooner he’ll go away.”
After I throw a silent tantrum, I take slow, tentative steps toward table four. I go the long way around the perimeter of the room so I can walk up behind Greg, giving me more time to collect my thoughts.
How is it going to feel coming face to face with him for the first time since I last saw him?
Is he still with Brenda?
Were there others before Brenda?
What will I say to him?
His long leg bounces under the table, and his hands are folded on top of the paper placemat. He’s in a light-grey suit, which means he came here straight from work, and his leather briefcase is propped up against the side of the booth.
His blue eyes lift to mine when I stop beside his table. “Charly.” He swallows. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard your tacos were back on the menu.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “You know I always loved those.”
