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God, I’m so stupid. When will I ever learn?
The daylight hours aren’t so bad because I’m busy. Rudy shows up and I walk him through the plans for the shop, then he helps me carry in the boxes of tile. We lay out the pattern and discuss timing and pricing.
Soon after he leaves, the electrician shows up and installs the new light fixtures. Once that’s done, I resume the painting Colt and I started. I need to finish that up before the tile is laid and so far I’ve only managed to complete one wall. At this rate, I’m not opening the shop before Christmas.
I work hard all afternoon, only stopping to break for a quick bite around lunchtime. By five p.m., every muscle in my body aches and all I want to do is take a hot shower and collapse on the couch.
I’m rinsing out my paintbrush, already dreaming about a nice cold glass of wine, when there’s a tap at the door. I swivelaround, my pulse racing, holding out hope that Colt’s somehow back in Peach Springs.
My heart sinks when I spot a delivery man at the door holding a garment bag.
Crossing the floor, I unlock the door. “Yes?”
“Delivery for a Colt Wild.” He holds an electronic pad out to me for a signature and my chest squeezes.
“Sorry, he’s not here anymore.”
“Huh.” The delivery guy scratches his head, double-checks the delivery instructions. “Says right here that this is the address.” He points at the pad and I quickly read over the words.
“It’s fine. I’ll sign for it. Worst case, I’ll get one of his brothers to pick it up.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs and jiggles the pad at me.
I scrawl my signature, then take the garment bag from him.
“Have a great night.” The driver waves and jogs back to his truck, leaving me standing in the doorway.
I highly doubt I’ll have a great night. More like a lonely one.
Locking the door, I head upstairs, trudging up each step one by one. I hadn’t realized how many stairs there were before; now it feels like the never-ending ascent.
I push into the apartment with a heavy heart and am greeted by a deafening silence. A strangled sob escapes from deep within me and the tears I held back all day flow freely down my face.
I’ve never felt lonelier in my life.
Unzipping the garment bag, I eye the contents through watery tears. Inside are several suits, all perfectly tailored to Colt’s tall, muscular body. Navy, black, charcoal grey. Plus dress shirts and at least ten ties of various colors and designs.
He should go with the navy, a light blue shirt, and the navy Swiss-dotted tie. That will really bring out the blue in his eyes.
Stop it, Trix. You don’t care anymore, remember?
I shove the clothing back into the bag and zip it up, hanging it on the makeshift clothes rack in the corner. I’ll tell Danny to text one of Colt’s brothers to pick up the damn suits. No need to stare at them for the next few weeks, feeling all sad and brokenhearted every time I spy the bag.
Bypassing dinner, I pour myself a solid glass of wine then take a nice hot shower, letting out all my pent-up emotions. The anger and sadness spill out of me, and after the long cry sesh, I do feel a tiny bit better.
Throwing on my pjs, I curl up on the couch and watch television until my vision starts to blur and my body’s heavy with sleep. Only then do I dare to tuck into bed.
Colt’s bed. The bed where I gave everything I have to him—including my heart.
I choke on a sob, sniffling back tears and inhaling. Colt’s crisp, clean scent hits me in the back of the throat and I bury my face in the pillow, sobbing hard until I finally give into sleep.
Knock, knock.
I crack one eye open, straw-colored sunlight slanting across the floor.
Knock, knock, knock.
My muscles go from languid to tense in two seconds and now I’m freaking out, my breath quick and shallow.
